Chanel No 5
by BirchWriter
Summary: Case file mixed with some angst then romance between Grissom and Sara. My version of how they got together. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** Chanel No. 5  
><strong>AUTHOR:<strong> BirchWriter  
><strong>RATING:<strong> Mature for graphic crime scene and other happier scenes to come.  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> Case File set in the week between 'Unbearable' and 'King Baby'. GSR.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> I don't own them, but if Anthony Zuiker wanted to give them to me, who would I be to refuse?  
><strong>SPOILERS:<strong> Basic knowledge of Season 5 and all seasons prior.  
><strong>AN:** This is my version of how they got together, it's their first time and mine too. Hope you guys enjoy.  
><strong>BETA:<strong> She made me use this header, wrote my disclaimer, kept the continuity, she fixed my glaring mistakes and made me use Sophia Curtis in this story, but I drew the line, no Lady Heather. All my love to the fanfic writer who inspired me, MSCSIFANGSR.

**Chapter One**

Sara entered the bedroom with her kit clutched in one hand and blue booties covered her work boots. With her eyes closed, she sniffed the air in the small enclosed space before she allowed herself to visually inspect the crime scene. She could detect a curious mix between blood, urine, fear, coconuts, licorice and what she was sure to be Chanel No 5.

And she was instantly transported back to that horrible day in 1983 when the world she knew came crashing from beneath her. The blood, urine and fear were to be expected at a crime scene, but the combination of the coconut, licorice and the perfume was almost too much for Sara Sidle to bear. There had been fresh coconuts that morning for breakfast, she recalled eating several strands of licorice before her father was killed before her very eyes and the perfume was her mother's signature scent.

_Snap out of it, Sidle. You are not a kid anymore._ She quickly composed herself, allowing the memories to seep from her body. _You've got to stop letting it bother you. It's not a secret anymore, now Grissom knows. Time to move on, I can't let him think I can't do my job because of something that happened a long time ago._

She stood for a few more seconds, willing herself to be a professional and when she opened her eyes, she slowly exhaled, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to see: draped haphazardly across one twin sized bed was a comforter almost completely saturated in blood, the bedside table knocked askew, contents scattered; the other bed made up perfectly without signs of disturbance and the bodies of two children, twisted grotesquely in death with their throats slit.

Sara's first thought was that the victims had been garroted, but she reasoned a knife or another type of sharp instrument used precisely could have achieved the same results.

Sara assumed both victims were girls, dressed as they were in matching American Girl nightgowns, but one body was faced downward and she'd have to wait until David Phillips pronounced them dead before knowing for sure. The detective in charge of the investigation had said there were twin daughters aged somewhere between 6-8. Brass had warned her in advance of the gruesome scene that awaited her, and she quietly thanked him for his foresight.

She took another deep breath, the odor of the room now taking on the more familiar metallic smell of blood and she carefully placed her kit at the doorway to the room on the plastic sheeting covering the floor of the hallway to prevent cross-contamination as she quickly snapped on latex-less gloves and took out her Nikon F-5 to document photographically the carnage in the room.

She shuddered to think what the other members of the assembled swing and night-shift teams faced in the other rooms of the house. Catherine, Sophia and Greg had drawn the daunting task of the investigating parents' room where their bodies had been found in the same predicament as had Sara's victims, Nick with the bedroom of the teenaged son whose throat had been severely severed, Warrick outside on the perimeter so he could practice his specialty in casting errant foot prints and possible tire tracks, and Gil Grissom was supposed to be in the twin's bedroom with her, but she wasn't entirely sure where he was right then.

He might have been busy running interference with the Sheriff of Clarke County from the press, who appeared like vultures just moments after Jim Brass had called in the criminalists from the different shifts. The night-shift had all arrived separately, being they were all called in. A reporter from the one of the local television stations had stopped Sara on the way in, but her contrite, "No comment." left the reporter standing on her heels.

_But this is Catherine's case, so she should be taking the heat, not Grissom_. Thought Sara as tried to keep her thoughts on task.

As she snapped crime scene photos, carefully as not to disturb any evidence, Sara Sidle thought back to a similar case, a family dead in their suburban house, but two daughters had survived. The case had been one of the first few after she'd moved to Las Vegas. She remembered the haunting blue eyes of the youngest child, Brenda Collins.

She lowered the camera and shook those thoughts out of her head, she knew she had to stay objective about the current case and not let the ghosts of cases previous cloud her judgment in this one. Evidence would solve the murders of this family, not preconceived theories from old cases.

"Hey," the voice of her supervisor interrupted her thoughts. She looked up at the figure standing just behind her kit in the hallway. He was dressed as he usually did at work with dark jacket with a button-up shirt peeking out, dark pants and gloves covering his hands. "Find anything probative?"

"Just taking preliminary photos." She sighed audibly as she returned the camera to her eye and resumed taking photos. She steeled herself against his authority, hoping he wouldn't find anything wrong with her work, after all it was her first case with Catherine back since she'd been suspended by Ecklie.

"What," he noticed her body stiffened at his question. But Grissom continued his line of inquiry, "Do you want me to do?"

Sara relaxed and felt a bit of amusement at his question, but the circumstances mitigated quashing those types of feelings. "You're the boss, what do you want to do?"

"Not in this case." The silence was not unbearable between them, finally he said, "I'll start on this side," when he realized she wasn't going to tell him what to do. He pointed to the left where there wasn't any discernible blood evidence, as he dropped his kit beside hers. He opened the aluminum case and retrieved the items he needed and stepped into the room, sporting the same blue booties over his shoes.

Sara continued taking photos of the bodies and their immediate surroundings and Grissom worked through the room searching for any anomalies. And wordlessly the two criminalists worked collecting minute evidence for approximately 45 minutes before the arrival of the assistant coroner.

David Phillips entered the room with an air of quiet detachment and shyness. "Grissom, Sara," He greeted the two C.S.I.'s with a nod before looking over the two children. "Shame when there's kids involved."

Sara had been down on her knees sorting through the clutter from the bedside table when David came in wearing the same ugly blue booties to protect tracking evidence from room to room. She almost laughed at his appearance, wearing a cream colored turtle-necked sweater over a pair of blue jeans.

"Did your date get interrupted?" Sara rose from her position with an unexpected hand from Grissom, who had been standing above her, going through the large double closet.

"Unfortunately." David replied before he bent down over the first girl and checked for a pulse, finding none; moved the limbs of the young girl checking for signs of rigor mortis, then he checked her liver temperature. "95.1 degrees. Roughly the same as the adults and the teenager in the other rooms, meaning they all died at about the same time, roughly 3 hours ago."

He repeated the same procedure on the second girl after he'd turned the body over, he looked down at the temperature gauge and muttered, "That can't be right."

Grissom looked at the young man without comment but Sara's ears picked up on the sound of distress in his voice, "What's wrong, David?"

He re-stuck the instrument and got the same reading, "This victim's liver temp is the normal body temperature of a living person, which either means she just died or she had an elevated fever before death. Liver temp right now is 98.6 degrees."

Sara blanched as the information processed in her brain; she realized she had been in the bedroom for over an hour and if the child had just died, then it was her fault. She hadn't lifted a finger to check if the child was still alive. She had assumed from the report she was given by Brass from the paramedics who first responded that there were no survivors to this tragedy.

David methodically rechecked the second body for signs of death, "Rigor has set in some of the major joints of her body, so theoretically she's been dead at least three hours."

Grissom heard the audible sound of Sara's relieved sigh. He seen many seemingly inconsistent facts associated with death in his 20 years as a criminalist and the several years he'd spent as a coroner. For some reason he breathed his own sigh of relief when he heard Sara's.

Sara stood back as David motioned for Grissom to assist him in placing the two small bodies into the standard black body bags and transferred them gingerly to the awaiting stretchers outside in the hallway. Two other men pushed the stretchers away, with David following at a respectful distance.

Sara immediately began combing through the area where the first girl was found and Grissom started working on the section where the second body lay. Sara wondered why her boss was still in the room with her, after all the time he'd spent avoiding her the past several years.

"Why didn't you go back with the bodies like you usually do?"

"I'm needed here." He didn't even bother to glance at her. Sara wondered if he were embarrassed by her confession to him thirteen days ago.

"You checking up on me, making sure I don't blow up at anyone or at Catherine again?"

Grissom looked up at Sara, but wouldn't meet her glare. He seemed to stare at a point just behind her. She could see the lines of worry etched around his eyes and she thought she saw something in his eyes, but before she could name it, it was gone.

"No."

She was afraid to ask him anything else out of fear of what he may or may not say, so they worked in comfortable and uncomfortable silence for about 15 minutes before Sara's 'aha' startled Grissom who had been pulling a long strand of hair out of one of the smaller blood pools.

"What'd you find?" His eyes met hers head-on for the first time since he demanded answers to his questions at her apartment.

"A few glass fragments and maybe the top and neck of a broken perfume bottle. Earlier, when I first walked in, I thought I smelled the lingering odor of Chanel No. 5. And now, I found the source." She held the evidence tightly within her grasp, clasp in her forceps with a gentle grin on her face.

"Bag it," Grissom said abruptly turning back to his work. Sara felt a bit of a let down, she still felt the need to please him even after everything that had happened between them. She knew she should shut off her personal feelings for him, but of course that was easier said than done.

They continued, again in silence for another 30 minutes or so when Greg came bounding into the room.

"Grissom, the cops have caught the guy...I guess I should say, girl...woman who did all this. Warrick followed his nose and the evidence to a car where we found a woman passed out, covered in blood, with a knife on the seat beside her. We alerted Brass and the cops arrested her, well, they carried her to the hospital because they couldn't revive her. She was freaky looking with all that blood on her. I thought she was dead. But she wasn't so they called a padded wagon to come get her."

"What were you doing there instead of your assigned station with Catherine and Sophia?" Sara knew the look Grissom gave Greg intimately. He'd given her that same of look of skepticism at times. Sara wanted to speak for Greg, but he surprised her with his immediate answer.

"Catherine kicked me out. The bedroom was too small for the three of us, although this one is smaller. How are you guys not killing each other, cause I thought Catherine was gonna explode what with Sophia talking to herself. Anyway, Catherine told me to help Warrick." Greg shrugged his shoulders and continued, "So, the woman reeked of perfume and when I was with still working with the girls, I smelled the same perfume in the air."

"Sara smelled perfume here and also found a piece broken bottle of perfume," Grissom admitted to Greg. "And you'd better not let Sophia or Catherine hear you referring to them as 'girls'."

Sara was surprised he'd given her credit, but Grissom wasn't really one to steal someone thunder.

"Case closed then, huh?" Greg smiled at Sara and gestured with his arm to escort Sara out of the room.

"Not so quick, my young C.S.I. We still have to collect evidence. And we don't know for sure this woman committed these crimes, it's possible it's a separate case. The blood may or may not be our victims." Sara smiled as she watched Greg's hopeful face fall upon her words.

"Does Nick need any help?" Asked Grissom in his usual no-nonsense tone.

"No, he's finished and the senior women investigators are also finished." Grissom had to laugh at that despite himself. "You two are the only ones not finished with your part of the scene."

"Greg, do you want to stay here and help Sara finish this scene or go to the hospital and process the woman?"

"What? I get a choice? Wow, Grissom, thanks."

Sara watched both men: Greg practically beaming with pride and Grissom staring at him like the younger man had sprouted horns.

After several moments, Sara broke the silence, "Aah, Greg?"

"Yeah, Sara?"

"You gonna answer Grissom's question?" She chanced a look at her boss and could tell he was doing his best not to smirk.

"Hmm, yeah, I'll stay with Sara; besides Warrick already went to the hospital on Catherine's orders with the woman from the car. Were you going to process her?"

"Not my call in this case, Greg. If Catherine is finished then I'll grab her and head over to the to the morgue. The medical examiner should have gotten started with at least one of the bodies. As much as I love a good 'early roll-out, all hands on deck', I have other business to attend to, like running my own shift." He turned to Sara, "I'll leave my evidence for you to log and I'll see you two back at the Lab." With that, Grissom left the room.

"Is he still pissed at you?" Sara could tell Greg's tone was teasing, but she knew there was a grain of truth with the question.

"For the suspension, being cooped up in this room with me for a couple of hours, for the last few years or just everything in general?"

"A, B, C and D. Answer the question, Sara."

"Probably all of the above. Now, let me show you were to start..." She deflected his attention to the task at hand, but she really wondered if Grissom was pissed at her, not for what she'd said to Greg, but because he now knew her most closely guarded secret. Her past.

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: 'Thank you' to everyone who has left a review, opted to alert this story or placed it on their favorites. I didn't realize what a rush it was to get those types of reactions from readers. Also to MSCSIFANGSR for her beta skills, although I did decide to change a couple of things in the chapter after she had performed her magic.

Added note: I don't know if any of you know this, but my beta is OCD about all things CSI. She re-betad this after I'd posted and made me reload the chapter with her changes. I know you people don't know me, but I'm not used to be bossed around this way. If she weren't right, I'd probably tell her to go to, well, I'll leave that out.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter Two**

Sara entered the break room for a quick cup of coffee to tide her over into her own shift. It was ten minutes until the official start of her shift and even though she'd already worked for more than six hours prior, she was a bit tired. During the time of her suspension, she'd gotten more sleep and now, her body craved it.

She paused at the door, still holding her empty mug in her hand. She saw her former teammates, Warrick and Nick, laugh together as they relaxed on the couch. She really missed her two best friends, but they all now worked at different times. Sometimes their hours over-lapped, but it still wasn't the same as working together all the time.

With her eyes closed, she envisioned each of the former team when they'd been together, the images flitted through her brain like a slide projector:

_Warrick Brown stood over the dead body of a singer's wife, he snapped photos of the crime scene and when he looked up at her, his green eyes smiled. Another flash of Warrick as he lifted a fingerprint from the neck of a soda bottle that probably was the murder weapon in a long ago case._

_Nick Stokes flashed a grin in her direction as he pulled into traffic one morning as they headed to Frank's for breakfast, he had gunned the engine and turned the radio to a country music station. Nick's twang was permanently etched in her memory: "Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such."_

_Greg looked up at her with puppy dog eyes when she visited him in the hospital after the lab explosion; the satisfied grin on his face when all his friends celebrated the passing of his final proficiency to become a level one CSI a little over a month ago._

_Visions of Catherine flashed through her mind: The strawberry blonde bent over inspecting the bloated body of the college student in the bathtub; another more sinister one of her placing 'the finger' on the table as she was bustled out by a stranger. Supervisor Willows shocked face as the words, 'you let your sexuality cloud your judgment about men' escaped Sara's mouth._

_Grissom's hand held tight against her back as they crossed a street in search of evidence; the way his body just seemed to gravitate toward hers at odd times; the electricity when that happened. Her hands held above her head as his fingers barely skirted the exposed skin of the upper arm. _

_STOP!_

The vibration from her pager went off and she read a missive that stated unequivocally for her to report to the break room immediately for a meeting.

"Hey guys, I got a page from..." Sara started but was promptly pushed to the side as Greg Sanders bustled into the room.

"Whew, I got here before Catherine. Thank God. She's already on the warpath after she came out of the director's office. My sources say the Sheriff left a couple of minutes later."

Greg sat down heavily in a chair at the table and continued, "So, she's probably not gonna like that our suspect died at the hospital nor the fact that the antigenic substances in the red blood cells on the former suspect or knife don't match any of the victims in the house."

Sara disbelievingly looked at the former DNA tech and her thoughts were interrupted by the tall black man to her left. "Blood types don't match? How do you know, Greg? I took those samples myself."

"You didn't do anything wrong, I promise Rick. Kristy, the DNA tech at Desert Palms, and I go way back. She let me know. Suspect, now dead woman had Type O negative and the blood from the knife that I checked came up the same, O negative. Wayne Keyes had A positive, Amy Keyes, the mother, AB positive and all the kids with the same as the mother. The cases probably aren't related."

"But the evidence from the Keyes residence lead me straight to the car," Warrick rationalized.

"Warrick, maybe the killer walked right past the car and kept going," Sara said as she felt the disturbance of the force, Grissom's silent entry into the break room before she actually saw him. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck always alerted her to his presence.

It was often a useful trick to have, being she always knew when he was in close proximity, but at the same time, it seemed to be a curse. Her body reflexively went on alert when he was around. The attraction that pulled her to him irregardless of his lack interest, was natural. Logically, she knew she should give up on her fantasy of the two of them having a relationship outside of work. But the way their bodies drew together without conscious effort was disconcerting to say the least.

"That's right Greg..." Grissom stopped for a second as if he just noticed he and Sara were almost in the same linear space with no distance between their bodies. He appeared to Sara to be considering his position but before he could proceed with his thoughts, Catherine and Sophia Curtis burst into the room.

Ecklie's former minion took a look around the room, accessing each in the room. Sara could feel the blonde's eyes upon her, but she steadfastly ignored her.

The gossip around the lab had Grissom dating Sophia. Eye witness accounts placed them at a renowned steakhouse on the strip, looking a lot more cozy than mere co-workers should be. Sara herself had seen the way Sophia had sat on Grissom's desk, leaning down to him as if to offer her body to his.

_Maybe he couldn't help drawing females to him; he didn't know the power he welded over women. The pure animal magnetism that was Gilbert Grissom._

Sara chuckled to herself at the thought of a feral Grissom and snapped out of her thoughts as the swing-shift supervisor began speaking to the assembled criminalists.

"Swing shift will be off the clock as soon as this meeting as concluded. So I'll try to make it quick." Catherine brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. "It appears we have two separate cases and unrelated cases. Grissom, Sophia and the rest of the night shift, thanks to the Sheriff, have the lead in the murders of the Keyes family. Swing will take the lead in the still unidentified woman that Warrick found while canvassing for evidence in the previous case.

"Warrick, when we return to our next shift tomorrow afternoon, you get to go back to the hospital and see she has regained consiousness and remembers..."

"She didn't, the woman died on the operating table." Greg spoke up, innocently but without hesitation. "My friend from Desert Palms let me know the blood types of the victims and the suspect and weapon didn't match..."

"Wait a minute," Catherine's face flushed with anger. "What do you mean? You didn't report this to me and as a few minutes ago, I was still in charge of the investigation." She flashed an evil look in Grissom's direction. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes, but Ca..."

"You son of a bitch, how dare you?" Her voice barely broke audible levels, then exploded, "I see how it is, you make me look bad as I'm trying to establish myself as a supervisor so you can get your precious team back together and then leave me flapping in the wind, without a hand hold."

Sara watched as Catherine sidled up to Grissom's chest, the deep red fingernail polish flicked over his collar in oblivious threat. Grissom backed up until his backside hit the glass wall of the room. Sara was shocked at the woman's outrage at Grissom, she would have expected it directed at her, but this open hostility was something entirely different.

"Catherine..." Grissom started.

"Don't you dare patronize me, Gil Grissom. You got the big case. I get the left-overs." Catherine suddenly realized the open confrontation was being witnessed by five other people, and she quickly changed gears, "Nick, Warrick go home. I'll see you later."

Sara didn't think twice as she grabbed Greg's arm to pull him out of the room following the guys out. "Come on Greg, we've got evidence we need to process."

The two swing shift employees made a V-line for the exit and Sara and Greg made their way down the hall and passed Greg's former domain, the DNA lab. "Maybe you should have pulled Sophia out with us. She's too new to be caught up in a Catherine grudge match."

Sara laughed, "She's just got to figure that one out for herself. You don't respect Catherine's claws until you've seen them in action."

"You should know."

"Shut up, Greg." Sara warned as they entered an evidence locker. Sara snapped on some latex-free gloves and quickly pulled down a box labeled, "Keyes, Nicole; Keyes, Samantha, bedroom 3, #4578923-SW-02132005 Grissom/Sidle/Sanders."

"Why are you getting that down? We just left the scene a little over an hour ago. With your photographic memory, you couldn't have forgotten anything."

"I haven't received another assignment, and this is the only open investigation that I have, so I can't go into any other evidence."

"Show-off." Greg smirked. "Braggart."

"What?" Sara sincerely didn't know what he was talking about and looked uncomprehendingly at Greg.

"You said, 'this is only open investigation that I have'. Seriously, Sara, you don't have any current unsolveds?"

"No," she answered honestly.

"I want to work with you all the time. You will definitely make my solve rate go up and I'll look good in Grissom's eyes."

"What are you talking about?" Sara carefully sliced open the box with a utility knife and the soft floral odor of Chanel No. 5 _eau de parfume_ filled her senses. A memory of her mother brushing her hair, then the disasterous memory of her mother bearing down on the knife as she plunged it into her father's chest. More recollections of the days, weeks and years that followed that day tried to spring to the surface but the tiny hairs on her neck stood up.

_Thank goodness. Saved by my Grissom alert! Take a deep breath, calm down. I'm so not looking at the door where he is lurking, listening to us talking. Greg doesn't know he's there because he won't shut up. And I thought I over-talked. _

"You have the best solve rate of all the CSI's on any shift here in Vegas and probably the highest in the western United States."

"Not true."

"It's true. I want you to show me 'the ways of the force'. Grissom's good, but you're better."

"Greg's right, you should work him, share your insights." Grissom's voice startled Greg, but Sara merely smiled at his words. He certainly didn't look any worse for wear after the battle between himself and Catherine, but maybe he bore the brunt of internal injuries. He never showed weakness and didn't now.

Sara knew that Grissom had stood up for her after she'd shared the darkness of her past with him, perhaps even to the point alienating Catherine. Sara knew the two of them had a friendship that somehow transcended their different temperments and outlooks on life. But now, it seemed external forces were pushing them further apart and that fact was bound to compound their rapport. And with the separation of the team, tempers were still running high.

Grissom voice penetrated her thoughts, "Sophia will take over the investigation of the teen-aged son and update and assist me with the parents, you and Greg will keep this end of the case. Also the two of you will head back to the scene's periphery and attempt to find evidence related to our case, not of the woman from the car, because according to the powers that be, that is now in hands of another shift."

Neither Sara nor Greg said anything in response to Grissom's words and without further comment their supervisor left the room. They quickly resecured the evidence and soon they were headed back to the crime scene.

"Hey, Greg?" Sara asked her partner as she expertly navigated the large SUV through the heavy Las Vegas traffic.

"Yeah?" Sanders had been immersed in finding 'a good rock song'. The cab of the truck had been filled with the sounds of "Nine Inch Nails' to "The Rolling Stones' and he still didn't appear to Sara to be satisfied with any song. He looked up from the dial where his hand had been perched on the 'scan' button on the radio and stared directly into Sara's brown eyes.

"Tell me how you came to know more about the case than everyone else. And explain to me how you know this 'Kristy' person. Also did you share that information with the director or the sheriff or even Grissom before you came into the breakroom?"

"Aaah...well...umm..."

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to everyone who had read this story, reviewed, made it a favorite or story alerted. I'm setting up the GSR in this chapter. I've been concentrating on the case file but I do have a smut scene written already. My beta hasn't seen it yet and she's chomping at the bit for it.

C**hanel No. 5**

**Chapter Three**

Sara paused before entering the layout room. She paused because she was very tired physically. She had worked tirelessly on the Keyes family murder case for the past 22 hours and she'd run through an amazing gambit of personal emotions. From nearly crippling memories to anger and amazement at Greg, even to a bit of jealousy in respect to Sophia and Grissom. Her day could have been better and it wasn't even over yet, nor did she see an end in sight.

Her official shift had ended about seven hours ago. Since then, although not on the clock, she hadn't left the crime lab. In that time, she'd discovered a lot. In the Keyes family history, she'd found some surprising information.

Her curiosity had been first peaked with Greg's hesitant confession while they'd been headed back to the Keyes residence in search of more evidence. _Why would the sheriff and director split the cases? It didn't make sense._ And after finding another key piece of evidence that linked the cases again, Sara had sent Greg home and she had doggedly pursued lead after lead.

Sara took a deep breath as she stood in the doorway of the layout room where Catherine Willows was cataloguing evidence, she lingered as she had in doorways since she had been a child, trying to gauge her welcome. It was the other thing that gave her pause. She wondered why she and the woman whose back was to her couldn't seem to get along.

Sara thought for years the cause of their rift was the esteemed Dr. Gilbert Grissom, but the evidence didn't quite agree with that assessment. The more she pondered the question, the more she realized Catherine thought of her as competition. Not for the attention of Grissom, but because for years, Catherine had ruled the night-shift as the only woman.

Sara realized that the new swing-shift supervisor didn't necessarily let her sexuality cloud her judgment in regards to men, but used it more as a defense mechanism, a weapon to use in her arsenal to avoid risks to keep her from being hurt. And Sara now empathized and understood her.

"Um, Catherine?" Sara voice was intentionally meek to avoid an unwanted confrontation. Sara held some of the key puzzle pieces the Keyes case. She needed to be delicate, this whole case was now seemingly blown out of proportion and could easily turn into a political nightmare for everyone involved.

She knew she should involve her supervisor in this information, but because what she'd uncovered linked both cases and she wasn't exactly sure how to go against the outgoing sheriff. Sara was pretty sure she'd find an ally in Catherine. It was in Catherine's best interest to at least listen to her, but since their recent blow up, Sara wasn't sure if she'd be well received.

Catherine had been holding a sheath of papers in her hand and at the sound of Sara's voice, she slammed them down onto the layout table in an overly dramatic fashion. And turned menacingly toward the doorway that held Sara's slender body. "What are you doing here?"

"I haven't left yet." Sara drew deep breath. "Listen, Catherine..."

"Eddie Willows taught me that nothing good ever starts with the phrase, "Listen, Catherine." If this is about all that shit from a couple of weeks ago, consider it forgotten. I have bigger fish to fry than you."

Sara slightly smiled, "Thank you, I think." She hesitated for a few seconds. "I'm sorry about not solving his murder." Catherine nodded sadly then Sara moved and then quickly closed the door to the room. When she felt ready, she decided that being blunt would be the best way to get the supervisor's attention. "The cases are linked, no matter what anyone wants us to believe. First by the perfume, all of the victims, including the woman in the car, were practically doused in it. Second, one of the twins, Samantha, had recently been returned to her family after having been missing for three years."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Catherine's curiosity was now peaked.

"Samantha Keyes had been involved in human trafficking. She came up missing at her daycare one afternoon and disappeared without a trace. Seems she was sold as a sex slave as a six year old. The International Justice Mission found and rescued her three years later from a brothel in Jakarta. That was six months ago. They patched her up, got her counseling and returned her home to her family."

"Holy shit." Catherine hissed. "I vaguely remember something about all that, when she was missing. Maybe it was Ecklie's case, I don't remember, but I know it was never solved. The press sensationalized the missing girl, but nothing was ever found."

"Yeah," Sara said. "The family was your typical middle class with three kids when one of the twins went missing. They lost most of their life savings searching for her. The father couldn't keep a job, because as soon as he got a lead on his daughter, he'd chase it down but would come home empty handed."

"When she was found and they should have had a happy ending. For the past six months, Wayne Keyes had worked at Desert Palm as a physical therapy tech, his wife a nurse there in burn care unit. They tried to cope with the fact that Samantha wasn't the same little girl anymore. The girl saw a pediatric psychiatrist four times a week and her IJM counselor on a regular basis up until the day she died."

"I can't imagine that happening to anyone. Poor girl."

"Okay, so Samantha had diverticulitis and inflammatory bowel secondary to repeated violations. Which is why her liver temperature was so elevated when David checked it at the scene. She tended to spike fevers intermediately. The girl was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress, but demonstrated no signs of any sexually transmitted diseases, which is amazing."

Sara took a moment to let the information settle in Catherine's brain. Then she continued, "So, back to where the cases join. Mandy," who Sara wished would come back to nights, "ran the ten-card on the woman Warrick and Greg found yesterday. Seems her name is Belinda Jacobson. She's in the system because of her employer."

"Yeah, and that is?"

"The International Justice Mission. She was Samantha's IJM counselor."

"No shit?" Sara nodded her head to affirm Catherine's question. "So, why are telling me this instead of Grissom?"

"Honestly, I would think it would be better if someone from another shift would discover these facts, especially someone not me or Greg Sanders for that matter." Sara added the former DNA tech's name in a rush, almost as an afterthought.

"What did Greg do?" Catherine's voice reminded Sara of a teenager bent on finding out the best gossip.

Sara shook her head, _God, what didn't he do? He totally compromised the whole case. I'm scared we won't be able to put it back together. _She wondered exactly how she should explain to Catherine Greg's serious lapses in judgment.

_Greg stopped fidgeting with the radio and then turned it off. He looked at her as she drove. He didn't look like he was going to say anything more, but Sara was surprised when he did._

"_Sara, okay, so I screwed up." Greg had said first, but continued quickly. "Kristy, well she's the real reason I work here. Here at the Lab, I mean, when I was as a Lab tech. Kristy got me the job, she used her dad's connections."_

"_Who is her dad?"_

"_Sheriff Rory Atwater."_

"_Damn, Greg you don't do anything half-way do you?"_

_He shook his head. "He was undersheriff back then, when Sheriff Montgomery was in his last days of his administration. Well, Atwater put in the good word with Montgomery and he made Grissom hire me. That's why Grissom's always been a harder on me."_

"_That doesn't make sense. Grissom hired you because of politics?" _

_Greg actually laughed, "No, I was there. It didn't go down like that. Mr. Atwater carried me to this little backstreet dive where the big boys play poker. I thought he liked me as a potential son-in-law. I didn't know enough to be intimidated, but once I got there, I was. Just like back in Prohibition days with a sliding gate on the door, there was a muscle man wanting to know the password to get in. Old School Vegas. It was my first up close and personal brush with it." _

_Greg paused and sighed, "About six guys were playing poker: Montgomery, Grissom and, I swear, Sonny Bridges, himself was sitting there playing poker like it was the most natural thing in the world. Atwater looked at Montgomery, and said, "Here he is."_

"_Montgomery then looked at Grissom and said, "I win this hand, you hire this boy. He knows DNA and that's the next big thing in law enforcement. Stanford educated. He's good or so I'm told. You win, the boy goes back to California with his head between his tail."_

_Grissom said, "Do I have a choice in the matter?"_

_Montgomery said, "No, Gil my boy, you don't."_

_Then Sonny Bridges dealt the cards to them. Montgomery got a deuce of clubs and Grissom an ace of spades. Next cards were a five of clubs for the sheriff and seven of hearts of Grissom. They played them face up, since there was no money involved, only my future._

_This beautiful chick, I remember her name was Nicole, wandered up to me and asked me if I wanted a drink. I almost didn't see her because my eyes were glued to the game. So, I shook my head and then she sauntered over to Grissom and let her hand skim over his collar._

_She said, "Gil, your usual?"_

_Grissom didn't even look up, because he was busy watching the community cards begin dealt, but he nodded his head at her question. A three of clubs, a six of clubs, an ace of clubs were on the flop and an ace of diamonds on the turn._

"_Oh, it looks like Sanders here is gonna have a job." Rory Atwater slapped me on the back and said, "The sheriff has a flush showing and Grissom's got three aces. When you get the job, remember you will owe me."_

"_And you Rory, will owe me," said Montgomery ominously, as he looked over his glasses at Grissom. "You want to play on, Gil or concede to me?"_

"_Play on." _

_Sonny then dealt Montgomery a four of clubs and it seemed to me the air when out of the room. I had a job, but at what price? Then Montgomery laughed and said, "Straight flush, I ain't never had one of those before in my life." The man looked very pleased and continued, "Seriously Gil, hire the boy, that straight flush's gotta mean something and I'll owe you a favor one day."_

_And Grissom said, "How about we just settle any favors like we did this one over a game of poker?"_

"_Let the fates or Lady Luck decide?" At Grissom's nod, Montgomery said, "Smart man, this entomologist." Montgomery slapped Grissom on the back and got up. Atwater was pulled to the side by Montgomery. _

_They talked a few minutes while I stood around trying to look cool and probably failing miserably. I wanted the waitress to notice me, but she totally ignored me. Then Atwater took me by the elbow and lead me out of the room._

_About a year later, Montgomery lost the election to Brian Mobley. Atwater campaigned tirelessly for the next four years to become Sheriff. He finally won and I guess he forgot about me until this case. I was his ace in the hole. But he just lost the latest election to Ben Burdick, so he's on his way out."_

Sara remembered everything Greg had said and took her time in explaining everything to Catherine.

When she was finished, Catherine's eyes lit up, "I always wondered why Grissom hired Greg." She laughed. "Now I know. I always knew that Grissom had something on Montgomery, but Gil keeps his cards close to his chest and he'd never use anything like that for unfair advantage. Greg's always been a good DNA tech. Did Atwater have anything to do with Greg's transfer to CSI?"

It was Sara's turn to laugh, "No, Greg said Atwater forgot all about him, especially since Kristy, his daughter left Greg for a woman. Seems he forgot about him until yesterday when Greg asked her to type the Jacobson's blood at the hospital and she reminded him of the deal. When we got back from the crime scene, Greg mysteriously disappeared. I guess he went to the sheriff with the info since I told him at the scene and I quote "And we don't know for sure this woman committed these crimes, it's possible it's a separate case. The blood may or may not be our victims." He just jumped to conclusions too quickly."

"So Greg is the reason the full case got pulled out of my hands?" Catherine was almost indignant, but at least she smiled. "I see why you came to me and I see why you don't want to be involved since you were the reason he went to Atwater. "

"Yeah, it's my fault," Sara admitted as she felt the woman's eyes upon her. Neither spoke for a long time and then Sara broke the silence. "Do you think it's just political posturing or is there a reason Atwater and Carvello want the cases to be separate? Do you think they want to keep the IJM out of it or covering for something because they never solved Samantha Keyes case in the first place?"

"I don't know, Sara, but I imagine we're looking for someone with a thing for 'Chanel No. 5' who may be the person or persons who sold the child into slavery, or someone with an axe to grind against the International Justice Mission. Or we've got someone who killed the family for whatever reason and Jacobson was collateral damage. Or vise versa. And we'll probably have the freaking CIA in this before too long because of the trafficking end. Definite political nightmare."

Sara contemplated the swing-shift supervisor's words. "What are we gonna do?

"When I get in trouble, I always go to Gil. We may not be seeing eye to eye at the moment, but he'll know the way out. Let's head over to his townhouse."

"Oh, no, I'm not going to Grissom with this; you can. I need to run under his radar for awhile. He'll think this is all my fault and he'll probably fire me."

"He's not going to fire you, Sara. He went to bat for you over the 'insubordination' thing; Ecklie wanted to fire you and I'm sorry, well we both said things...but Gil looks after his people. He cares."

Sara's next words were nearly inaudible, "No, he doesn't." Catherine heard her though and looked Sara straight in the eye and laughed. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"I know Gil Grissom cares about you more than anyone else."

"What about the fact that he's dating Sophia Curtis, who is his employee? He wouldn't go out with me because of that. Now, he's dating her. Means I don't mean anything to him, but as a subordinate."

"Bullshit. They aren't dating...she was going to quit and he talked her out of it, I know, I was there, too. She just flirts with him because she doesn't know. Ever since you first got here, back when Holly Gribbs was shot, anybody with any sense has known that you've have a thing for Grissom and he's got one for you. I'm tired of watching the two of you dance around the elephant in the room, you two are perfect for each other. If your interested, I could help the two of you out."

Sara looked into the woman's eyes and admitted she was interested without saying a word.

"Come on, let's go wake Gil up."

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I deeply apologize to everyone who has been reading this story for the long delay. On the 8th of July, I had to have emergency surgery and then developed an infection. This chapter is shorter than the others, but I did want to show everyone who has taken time out of their day to read this story that I am making the effort. Also it would appear this story will be longer than I had anticipated. Beta work performed by MSCSIFANGSR.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter Four**

The two women stood in the entry way awaiting the man of the house to answer the door. Catherine Willows had rung the bell twice, but so far to no avail. Sara's thoughts were consumed by questions: _Why had the killer left traces of Chanel No. 5 on all the victims? Why kill the whole family? What about Belinda Jacobson, was she collateral damage? Did the International Justice Mission have anything to do with the murders?_ So far, she had no answers to these questions.

She took a deep breath. _Wonder why Grissom's not answering his door? I wish Catherine hadn't dragged me here. But I would love to see him in his natural habitat._ She laughed to herself and realized how tired she really was.

Sara Sidle wasn't sure how much longer her body remain in the standing position before she completely keeled over. On the ride over, she knew she'd fallen a sleep for a few minutes, but she didn't feel rested or any better. There were still many things left for her to do before she allowed herself the luxury of sleep and she really wasn't sure when she'd even have to time to go home.

The longer they stood there, the more tense and agitated Sara became. _What if he wasn't there? What if he was but wasn't alone? _The second thought worried her tremendously. She realized she was becoming increasingly more emotionally attached to him. And she felt that she was setting herself up for more disappointment. He'd been emotionally available for her when he'd forced her confession several days ago, but since then he had returned to his normal unavailable self.

"You think he's here?" Sara asked as she reached up and placed her hand on the support column adorning the entrance to the seemingly endless row of townhouses. After a moment, she leaned her back up against it to ease her tired body.

Catherine punched the doorbell once again and thought she heard movement within the house. "Both of his vehicles are here, the Denali and his Mercedes, so maybe he's still sleeping," Catherine shrugged, then her attention was captured by a young couple coming out of a townhouse several doors down.

The two women didn't say anything else for several minutes, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Sara heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind them and literally jumped to attention at the sound of Gil Grissom's baritone voice, "Ladies, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Sara turned and looked at the man who was wearing only a pair red swimming trunks and a thick white Egyptian towel slung around his neck.

His chest was bare, tanned and completely took her breath away. She literally had to remind herself to breathe. All outward of signs fatigue disappeared from her posture and her curiosity was most definitely peaked.

She slowly took in his appearance starting with his feet, savoring the vertible feast before her eyes. His bare feet were long and bony; he wore ordinary white flip-flops to prevent the hot concrete from scorching the soles of his feet. The flip-flops were gray and pulling apart in several places and had definitely seen better days.

She gazed up along his calves to the obliviously bowed knees. _'Genu Varus' is the Latin term for this condition_, her mind supplied quickly. His legs were hairless, tanned, and well muscled. The red trunks were long but didn't quite hide his muscular thighs. His thighs were the stuff her dreams and fantasies were made of. His quadriceps muscle was very defined and ripped. She noticed the trunks were somewhat baggy and the long white string hung down to the hem of the shorts.

His chest and stomach were larger than she'd anticipated, but in its natural state, it wasn't a bad thing at all. Grissom wasn't flabby in the least, although his stomach was somewhat paunched. His nipples were brown against his pecs and as her gaze continued upward, she could see lingering droplets of water in his beard. His blue eyes were staring back at her in question, instead of meeting them head on, she quickly broke her gaze and looked toward Catherine as if to say, _It's her fault, she brought me here_.

"Hey, Gil, there you are. Swimming to get in shape?" Catherine laughed and quickly changed the subject. "Gil, we need to talk."

Sara sighed. She'd never really believed she'd ever see a half naked Grissom, but what she saw put her fantasies to shame. _The man is most definitely built. Oh my!_

"I was. Yes, in fact, I swim everyday. My doctor recommended it to increase my cardiovascular health. Come on inside and tell me what it is that brought you two here today." Grissom reached his hand down into the waistband of his trunks and Sara's heart stopped for a moment. He retrieved a key from his hideaway pocket, then quickly unlocked the door and gestured for the two women to go inside ahead of him.

The air conditioning was set low in the house and Grissom visibly shivered as he closed the door behind him. Sara watched as he removed the towel and quickly wrapped it around his waist, leaving her disappointed. Catherine, she noticed was headed toward a row of shelves that held an assortment of nick-naks, framed pictures and cluttered books.

"But first, let me go change. Make yourselves at home. I won't be long." Grissom said as he stepped around them and made his way toward the hallway. "And Catherine, no snooping."

"Gil..." Catherine complained, but as soon as the word left her mouth, a large dog lifted his head up off the leather love-seat and growled. The boxer jumped off the couch and began menacingly walking toward the two women in earnest. The snarling intensified and Catherine made a quick dodging motion to duck behind Sara's body in a move that startled Sara.

"Heel!" Upon Grissom's command the dog immediately sat on its haunches. "Sorry Hank's not used to visitors. I can let him out on the patio while I'm changing if the two of you are uncomfortable with him. He shouldn't be a problem. He's a little grumpy when he gets woken up unexpectedly."

"Hank, huh? Where did you come up with a name like that Grissom?" Catherine asked as Sara had made her way toward the dog with an open palm so that the animal could smell her. The wetness of his lick across the palm of her hand startled her at first, then she quickly rubbed him behind the ears.

"Hammering Hank Aaron, of course."

Both women laughed, as the dog clearly loved getting his ears scratched. Sara looked up at Grissom who was making his way to the dog. "Griss, he can stay inside, that is, if Catherine doesn't mind." She looked at the strawberry blonde was shrugged her shoulders in response. "We'll make friends with Hank and you can get changed. It's okay."

"If you're sure?" Grissom looked at Sara who had now bent down on her knees so she could be on eye level with his dog. Hank was attempting to lick Sara in the face. Sara could see the smile on Grissom's face as she attempted to avoid the canine kisses. She smiled back at Grissom and in the mean time, Hank took the opportunity and licked her across the lips. Grissom couldn't seem to draw his attention away from Sara and his dog.

"I'm sure. I believe Hank and I will get along fine." Sara cooed, "You're a good boy, Hank. Yes, you are."

Grissom looked to Catherine, who'd managed to step up and sit onto one of the barstools at the bar separating the living room and the kitchen, to see if she minded the dog staying with them. She looked curiously at him, but interrupted any comment that may have come from him, "Gil, your vodka and orange juice are safe. I'm on the clock. Go get cleaned up. We've got quite the story to tell you."

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I've been bad for not updating this story, however I'm not going offer excuse after excuse for not updating, because I really don't have any excuses. And I'm not going to offer any false promises on when the next update will be. But I do promise this story will be completed. I do appreciate all the reviews, story favorites and alerts. You readers rock! Thank you to MSCSIFANGSR for the beta and for kicking my butt to post this chapter.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 5**

Sara was comfortable and felt like she was just on the verge of sleep; her consciousness was blurred between reality and a nice dreamlike state where she swore she felt like she was bathing in the scent of Gil Grissom, when she felt a lingering trail of wetness run from her elbow down to her wrist.

She jumped into full wakefulness and her gaze was met by a set of dark brown eyes.

She heard the sound of Catherine's laughter and a chuckle from Grissom as she and the dog, Hank were locked in a staring contest. Neither participant gave an inch, until the dog's tongue slipped out of his mouth and made as if to repeat the gesture.

"Oh, no, you don't," Sara's voice commanded. Hank broke their battle of wills and with tail between his hind legs, walked over to where a now fully dressed Grissom who sat at the bar along side Catherine. Hank sat down and Grissom reached down to pet the dog behind the ears.

Grissom hair was still wet and Sara noted that he'd neglected to put on shoes or socks. His naked feet were almost turning her on, so she shifted her focus elsewhere. She noted he looked good in khakis and a white shirt that was not tucked in and was only about three quarters of the way buttoned up. It sort of reminded her of Warrick who tended to leave his shirts open, but Grissom's chest held much more interest to her than did Warrick's.

"Glad to see you could join us, Sara. Although you and Hank do make a cute couple." Catherine stated ironically.

"Bite me, Catherine," Sara jeered in jest, shaking the remnants of sleep from her mind.

"Catherine's right. I've never seen Hank take to someone as quickly as he has to you," Grissom stopped and then continued, "Do you still run?"

"Yes," Sara replied immediately without thinking about Grissom's abrupt subject change.

"Maybe you and Hank could go running together. He has too much energy to be cooped up in the house all day. That is if I'm not being too presumptuous."

Sara was embarrassed for moment under the lingering gaze of Catherine Willows, who appeared to have eaten a canary. "I'll get back to you on that, Grissom. Look Catherine and I have something to tell you about the case..."

"I've already told him everything you told me and explained the predicament, Sara. Your little nap lasted about an hour."

"Oh," Sara lamented, mostly definitely embarrassed now. "So, now that you have been updated on the situation, how do we get out of this mess?"

Sara watched Grissom shrug his shoulders and as he continued to absentmindedly scratch the mane of the large, brown boxer.

All three criminalists were silent for the better part of thirty seconds, when Catherine's cell phone rang, "Willows." After several moments of silence, Catherine then responded, "Okay, I'm on my way."

"Warrick and Nick are still working on Jacobson's case and they brought in her boss, Melvin Lee for questioning. He is the department head of the US based counselors. Hopefully he can add something new to the case. Bye."

With that, Catherine breezed out of Grissom's front door and Hank hesitantly made his way over to Sara who was still seated on the same brown loveseat she'd fallen asleep on earlier. He sat down obediently beside the couch and made no move toward Sara.

She smiled and reached down to pet him in the same manner as had Grissom. The dog appeared to appreciate and reveled in the attention. Sara looked up and realized after several endless seconds that she and Grissom's gazes were locked. It wasn't in any way uncomfortable and seemed natural.

"Yeah, I think that might be a good idea." Sara said unexpectedly, breaking their gaze.

Grissom blinked twice before questioning her. "And what was the question again?"

Sara laughed, "I could run with Hank sometime. It'd probably be good for me to have some canine protection when I run. Not that I don't trust my mace."

"That would be good for Hank and you," Grissom turned and stood. He quickly moved behind the counter. "You want something to eat?"

"No, but I could use your restroom, if that's okay."

"Third down on the right." Grissom said as he pointed toward the hallway. "You sure? I'm going to make me some breakfast and it'd be just as easy to cook for two as it is for one."

Sara considered his offer and decided it would be nice to share a meal with him. "Okay, but Griss?"

"Yeah?"

"No meat." Sara smirked and then turned her back and made her way down the long hallway, whose walls were adorned with a variety of art prints of artists from Monet to Kandinsky to Vettraino. She was impressed. _I would have thought the man would have more pictures of bugs_. She took a moment to look at each of the twelve prints, when she realized how badly she needed to go to the bathroom.

Before she opened the door, she was immediately struck with the idea that she was stranded at Grissom's house. She couldn't believe she'd gone as long as she had without realizing Catherine had left there without a ride back to the lab.

But all those thoughts shattered when she inhaled the essence of Grissom and saw his red swimming trunks drying draped across the towel bar beside the shower. She felt like she was an intruder in his house and attempted to quash the images of him removing the shorts when she had been asleep on his couch.

It did no good as she continued to picture the naked man in his bathroom, perhaps even rinsing the chlorine from the pool off of him in the shower. She saw recent activity in the shower with the tell-tale signs of water droplets clinging to the walls of the enclosed area. She easily imagined his hand swirling soap across his chest and stomach while it venturing lower and lower.

"_STOP!"_ Sara nearly shouted out loud to quell the fantasy from getting out of hand. Earlier she'd found herself aroused and she did again. But then there was something about Grissom that generally turned her on without the provacation. But this was getting out of control.

She took care of her necessary business and looked at herself in the mirror as she splashed a bit of water on her face to help clear her thoughts. She dried her face and then considered the implications of snooping in Grissom's medicine cabinet. And before she could stop herself, she cracked open the mirrored door and peeked at the limited contents:

_Band-aids, check. _

_Toothbrush and paste, check._

_Mouthwash, check._

_Rolaids, check._

_Shaving creme, check. _

_Razor, check. _

_500 count bottle of Tylenol, check. _

_Prescription meds for migraine, check. _

_Condoms, hmm?_ She deflated for a second. _Check but the expiration date was November 2002. Yes!_

_A half bottle Chanel No. 5, check? _

_What the hell is Grissom doing with a woman's perfume in his bathroom cabinet? _

_And one that connects to our case? _

_I__t's none of my business. _

_Sara Sidle, get a grip. _

_It's really none of my business._

She slammed the cabinet closed and took a deep breath. She was again assaulted with the smell of Grissom in his most natural state, as her fingers trailed over the still damp Egyptian towel. Desire coursed through her body again at an alarming rate as she contemplated where the towel had touched his body.

_Get a grip. Chill out, Sidle._

She quickly turned on the faucet and splashed her face with the cold water. She heard a scratching sound at the door and collected herself enough to open the door and a woeful Hank looked up at her.

"Come on boy. Let's see what Grissom is cooking for our breakfast." She ran her hand through the dogs shiny coat and again took a quick look at the art in the hallway as she and the dog ambled together into the living room. She saw that Grissom's back was to her as he faced the stove.

"My mother gave me the prints in the hallway for my last twelve birthdays. She hopes that I'll become a more rounded individual instead of being obsessed with bugs all the time. She just sold her art gallery in Marina Del Rey and is moving here to Las Vegas to teach art at the Gilbert School for the Deaf. The second room on the right is hers when she stays here, but she is going to get her own place, so and I quote, "I won't crimp your style with all those hot show girl chicks." She lost her hearing before my father died when I was nine."

Sara's stare burned a hole into his back. She wondered why he was sharing more about himself and his family than he ever had.

"It's only fair that I should share something of myself since the last time we were alone in the others home, you told me about your childhood." He turned with skillet in hand and scraped some eggs from the pan into two plates. "I hope oatmeal, scrambled eggs and toast are to your liking."

"Sounds great. Catherine left me here without a way back to the lab. After we eat, I'll call a taxi, so I can get back to my apartment and get cleaned up before our shift starts."

"Sara," Grissom paused as he looked at the obliviously tired woman, "You don't have to waste your money on a cab. I can drive you to your apartment."

"I wouldn't want to trouble you any more than I already have."

"You don't trouble me, dear," came Grissom's almost muted response. "Coffee, juice, milk?"

Sara sat down on the bar stool that Catherine had occupied as Grissom dished up their meal. "Juice is good."

"Our shift doesn't start for another 4 hours, but we can leave after I dress for work and I'll drop you off at your place. I'll head on in and to check on the progress of the case and then do some damage control with Carvello and the Sheriff. Plus I'll need to write Greg up for his part in this drama."

"Don't be too hard on him. He did what he thought was right." Sara smiled slightly and wondered how bad things would get for them as this case wore on.

They ate in silence as Hank watched his now two favorite people. He noticed how they shyly looked at the other when one wasn't looking. He detected a bit of requited love on both their parts, but then what did a dog know about matters of the heart?

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This is for everyone who has asked for the next chapter. Thanks go to all that have read the story up till now and to MSCSIFANGSR for the beta. This story keeps gaining strength kind of like a hurricane, but unfortunately my fingers can't keep up with the process. This story will be much longer than I originally anticipated, because honestly I haven't even gotten to the meat of the story. Please be patient with me as I work through the complex web this story has become and don't forget to let me know how I'm doing so far.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter Six**

Sara Sidle paused as she usually did in the open doorway of Grissom's office. Although he'd paged her only a few moments ago to meet him there, the office was empty of human presence. She wasn't sure if she should enter if he wasn't there and as she contemplated her options, Sara detected the scent of Chanel No. 5 and then felt someone nudge her rather hard from behind.

"Go on in, Sara. Gil said he'd be here in a few minutes." Sophia Curtis pushed Sara into the room with no active propulsion whatsoever on Sara's part. She felt shocked by the blonde's behavior and while she tried to gather her dignity from the near assault, Sara was about to say something to the former day-shift CSI when Catherine Willows breezed into the room.

Sara took a deep breath to calm herself. The odor of the perfume unnerved her, her first thought had been of her mother, but the thought morphed into the crime scene of the murders of Samantha and Nicole Keyes.

_Draped haphazardly across one twin sized bed was a comforter almost completely saturated in blood, the bedside table knocked askew, contents scattered; the other bed made up perfectly without signs of disturbance and the bodies of two children, twisted grotesquely in death with their throats slit._

She wondered if Sophia realized she was wearing the perfume that figured so predominately in their case, but remembered belatedly that Catherine and Sophia had worked the bedroom of the children's parents, Wayne and Melinda. Greg had told her that their scene had been overwhelmed with the odor of the perfume.

_Just why is she wearing that perfume?_

Sara without too much conscious thought sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Grissom's desk and Catherine quickly took the other. She suspiciously watched the former day shift employee.

Sophia stood with her arms crossed in behind of her in military fashion. She wearing what Sara assumed was her standard work uniform, white button up blouse and black, almost skin tight slacks. This stance rather accentuated her amble bust line, so well in fact that the woman's breasts were so strained against her too far unbuttoned shirt, Sara thought they might spill out. Sara laughed to herself and then Grissom walked in with several files in his hand and she became somewhat intrigued by his response.

_He's literally gawking at Sophia._

_This isn't the first time I've noticed him staring at her. _

_Oh my God, what if the Chanel No. 5 in Grissom's medicine cabinet is Sophia's? _

_He really must prefer blondes over brunettes, especially ones with large boobs. _

_That shouldn't surprise me any. Most men are like that. _

_But I thought he was better than that. I wanted him to be better than that._

Sara noticed Grissom's cyan colored blue eyes were still glued to the woman's oblivious show of cleavage Sara shook her head in disgust.

_And only a few hours ago when I saw him in just his swimming trunks. And he looked so hot. Then he cooked for me. And his dog really liked me. _

_It was probably my only chance with him and it wasn't enough._

_Damn. _

Catherine must have been said something as Sara had been lost in her thoughts, she wasn't sure what Catherine had said, when some of the words finally penetrated her brain.

"...you were right about the cases being connected."

"Excuse me?" She asked, momentary jarred from her thoughts. She quickly noted that Nick and Warrick had also arrived in Grissom's office without her previous knowledge.

"I finished questioning Melvin Lee about swing shift's victim, Belinda Jacobson. I'm not going to get into the specifics right now, but suffice to say, he opened a can of worms we never expected. The two cases are most definitely connected and according to Albert Robbins, Belinda was the first victim of the unknown suspect or suspects."

"That is correct, Supervisor Willows," came the deep baritone sound of a male voice from the doorway.

When everyone in the room whirled around, they found they were staring into the baby blues of their sheriff, Rory Atwater.

"Supervisor Grissom you and your team are now in charge of the entire investigation of the murders of the Keyes family and in the murder of Belinda Jacobson. I'd like to thank each member of Swing Shift for your efforts in the case, but now, it is completely in night shift's capable hands."

Catherine's eyes widened at the information and almost began a certain rant when the Sheriff held his finger to his lips in a gesture to quieten her before she started. Nick Stokes looked a little lost, while Warrick Brown stood stoically behind Catherine.

"The FBI has some information about some of the finer details of Dr. Melvin Lee's statement. I watched part of your questioning, Supervisor Willows and you did a fine job. You were a complete professional with him and his insights have lead to valuable leads in this case. I have spoken to the Feds myself, in fact, just got off the phone with Washington only moments ago. They are sending a liaison …"

"Wait a minute Sheriff. You want night shift to take over the case, but the FBI is going to come in and take all the glory?" Sophia asked, rather pointedly.

"Yes, Ms. Curtis, that is probably correct, given their normal _modus operandi_." Atwater watched as the blonde appeared to be calming herself. He thought she would probably make a good detective. She cut through the politics of the matter and stated succinctly the gist of the problem.

"Now, back to what I was saying: the FBI liaison's name is Victor Monahan. He is a Special Agent with an extensive background kidnapping, with special emphasis on the illegal international business of sex slavery. After Dr. Lee's revelations, the case is much more complex than we originally thought."

"Grissom, do you have any problem continuing the investigation into the murders? Quite frankly, the FBI doesn't have jurisdiction over the murders, only with kidnapping of the child and sex slavery end of things. What we unearth in our investigation, we share with the FBI, understand?"

Gil looked at Catherine in the eye and answered the sheriff without waver, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, Willows, I'd like to accompany you and your team to your office to discuss any problems you have with my decision." The still attractive, but slightly balding blond man took Catherine's elbow and led her out of the room. Warrick and Nick followed without ever having said a word.

"Way to cave, Grissom," came Sophia's retort barely under her breath when the Sheriff and the swing shift team left the room. "Catherine's going to..."

He interrupted her before she could continue, "I am here merely to serve the people of Clarke County, Sophia. The sheriff is an elected official of the county. Therefore I do as he commands."

Sara watched the two for a moment, wondered if perhaps a lover's quarrel in the work place was a good thing and then decided it was in her best interest ask, "Grissom, is Greg still available to us or is he off the case, also?"

"Off," came his terse reply. "His continued tenure as a Crime Scene Investigator is in jeopardy."

"So, that makes it the three of us on the case, correct?"

"Yes," his reply not nearly as terse as the previous one, but when Grissom looked at Sara, he realized what she was doing.

"Sophia, I'd like you to follow-up with Doc Robbins on the autopsy of the International Justice Mission employee, Ms. Jacobson, and review with him the details of her death." He shuffled the files in his hands and then looked at Sara.

"I'd like you to review the questioning of Dr. Melvin Lee. It was videotaped and a copy should be available in the AV lab. And I will try to make some sense of tonight's cases along with Greg. He will not work this case, but he can handle new cases as we receive them, with my immediate supervision."

He then dismissed the two woman from his office and walked around his desk and sat down.

Sara immediately left Grissom's office on her way to the AV lab. She assumed Sophia followed her out of the office to make her way downstairs to the morgue. It took her a few minutes to walk to the audio-visual lab and when she arrived, Sara saw the hard working nerd rubbing his eyes with one of his hands.

"Hey Archie. I'm here to watch Catherine's interview with a Dr. Melvin Lee."

"Yo, Sara. It's, well, I've been watching hours of surveillance tapes from a strip club sting. I need a quick smoke break. Give me a couple of minutes to bring it up, okay?"

"I'll run to the ladies room, is that enough time?" _So, I can cry my eyes out over the fact Sophia and Grissom are an item._ She mused to herself.

At Archie Johnson's nod, Sara turned and left the AV lab. She quickly took the circuitous route toward the locker rooms and as she passed Grissom's office, she saw the blonde CSI sitting on the edge of Grissom's desk, where Sara had seen her perched numerous occasions.

_He'd told me to leave and I left. _

_He told her to leave and she's still there. _

_I guess I really never had a chance with him. What a waste. We'd have been good together. But I'm not going to let him bother me anymore. I'll be a complete professional in all our dealings from now on._

_Days like this make me wish I could join Archie and have a really long cigarette._

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who is still reading this story. I appreciate all the story alerts, favorites and reviews. You guys rock. Betad by MSCSIFANGSR, even though she was a little under the weather. If anyone sees any mistakes she didn't catch, let me know and please feel free to let me know what you think of this story.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 7**

Dr. Melvin Lee sat with perfect posture in the uncompromising wooden chair at the opaque table in the interrogation room; he appeared to be patiently waiting on a flight or maybe a train. He could have been anywhere but in the police station in Las Vegas.

Sara wasn't sure she'd ever seen a man with such immaculate bearing: he wore a gray-striped Seville Row tailored suit with maroon tie and his jet black hair was flawless. She imagined him with a British accent, _"Bond, James Bond..."_

He looked neither left or right, but stared without apparent anxiety or nervousness at the door. His fingers were laced together in the classic temple shape, with his elbows resting comfortably on the table.

_He looks like he'd be a tough nut to crack if he were here as a suspect_, she thought. He definitely possessed panache.

Upon seeing the door open, his expression did not change. And when the person whose body was shadowed in the video slid into the chair opposite the man, did his face change into a formally polite smile.

Sara Sidle was watching the video of the questioning that had roughly occurred about the same time as she and Grissom were eating together only hours ago. Sara allowed herself a brief smile as she thought back to their quiet, however not uncomfortable meal together in his home. They had finally shared a meal together, alone, without members of their current team or even the old team. It was just the two of them.

_Well, Hank was there. I just wish Grissom's dog didn't share his name with my two-timing ex._

Her thoughts were interrupted as she quickly shook her head in response of Archie Johnson's question as to whether or not she was having any problems with the AV equipment and her nod when he said he'd still be working on the sting operation video.

"If you happen to need anything," he had added, in a tone that suggested he was flirting with her..

At that moment, she happened to look over at Archie and in the background and through the glass walls, Grissom was passing by in the hall followed closely behind by Sophia Curtis, whose stride was somewhat crippled by the fact that David Hodges was plastered to Grissom's side. Hodges reminded her of a small breed lapdog, yipping at it's owners ankles.

Sara couldn't help but to smile and hoped that early in her career she didn't appear in the same manner as Hodges to her co-workers as she followed Grissom around relentlessly.

Sara's attention was brought back to the job at hand when she heard Catherine's voice on the videotape:

"Hello, Dr. Lee. My name is Catherine Willows and I'm a supervisor in the crime lab with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. We're investigating the death of Belinda Jacobson. May I ask you a few questions about her and her work in general."

"Yes, you may." Sara was truly surprised when the man in fact had a hint of a British accent. She couldn't quite place his origin, but she supposed it didn't really matter to their investigation.

"How long were you in the acquaintance of Ms. Jacobson?"

"Seven years."

"What was the nature of your acquaintance?" Catherine's voice was completely professional.

"She was employed as a contract counselor in the aftercare division with the International Justice Mission. I am the department head of the counseling division. I am her boss, as it were."

Sara noted on the yellow legal pad poised beneath her hand on the desk that the man referred to the victim in the present tense.

"Our investigation is having trouble locating any family of the deceased, would you happen to know of any one we could contact to make them aware of Ms. Jacobson's death?"

The man didn't blink as he answered Catherine's question, "To the best of my knowledge, Ms. Jacobson was an orphan and grew up in orphanages. I'm not sure which U.S. State she was originally from, but that state payed for her education up to a point and she received scholarships to complete her education. I believe she furthered her education at what you Americans refer to as an 'Ivy League" university. She never married. And I'm not sure of her sexual inclination."

Sara wanted to interrupt the questioning with several questions about Jacobson. She knew she and the victim shared many qualities and felt a bit of regret pass through her when she realized she and Belinda Jacobson would have shared many life experiences and probably would have been friends.

"Can you briefly outline what the International Justice Mission does and her job duties?" Catherine continued with her line of questioning.

"The International Justice Mission is human rights agency that rescues victims of slavery, sexual exploitation and other forms of violent oppression. Our aim is to prosecute perpetrators and to ensure the public justice systems, such as the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, which you represent, to effectively protect the victims of such atrocities.

"Ms. Jacobson was a contract aftercare professional. Which means she wasn't necessarily a regular employee of the IJM. She lived and worked as a psychologist here in Las Vegas, but when the need arose, her services were required. She counseled victims of oppression to help rebuild their lives and helped to restore emotional and physical needs that are often the result of abuse.

"Ms. Jacobson was an extremely hard worker and displayed a tenacious dedication to the victims with whom she worked." He concluded the long statement.

Dr. Lee had answered all the questions so far without censure with no allowances as to whether or not he approved of his employee and his voice carried a no-nonsense tone.

"Did you personally know Ms. Jacobson or was the relationship merely job related?" Catherine's voice also sounded very no-nonsense.

"I interviewed her at our Washington office pre-employment and spoke several times to her via telecommunications in the course of some of her cases. She was a highly effective counselor and empathized with the victims. I never had occasion to know her in a social setting."

Catherine changed the subject dramatically, "Ms. Jacobson was found near death in her car and subsequently died as a result of her injuries. Do you have any information that you could share with our 'public justice system' on whether or not her death occurred in conjunction with a case or was due to a totally unrelated circumstance?"

Melvin Lee hesitated for a moment and swallowed. He then looked directly into the camera that taped his interview and begin his next statement.

"Ms. Jacobson was working with a child, a Samantha Keyes who had been kidnapped from this jurisdiction three years ago. The child was rescued from a brothel in Jakarta by our victim relief services. She was returned to her family here in Las Vegas approximately six months ago and required the aftercare services secondary to her injuries, post traumatic stress, and other emotional difficulties. Ms. Jacobson was contacted by our Washington, DC office to work with the Keyes girl.

"I believe Ms. Jacobson died in service to that child. Her family was also murdered that day, as I'm sure you are most certainly aware."

"Do you have any specifics as to which you may base that information?" Catherine sounded skeptical.

"Belinda," he hesitated for moment, as if questioning if he could use the woman's first name. "Belinda had called me specifically three days ago and said the Keyes girl had offered details of her initial kidnapping that were previously unknown to us or to the FBI or even your police force. I called the FBI secondary to the enormity of the situation. I spoke to Agent Victor Monahan who was to further question the child. Unfortunately, the agent was otherwise occupied with another case and he was scheduled to come to Las Vegas tomorrow to interview the child."

"Why didn't you contact the Las Vegas Police Department?"

"No disrespect intended, but the case at the time was before the deaths of Belinda and the Keyes family, and it carried with it a larger jurisdictional issue than merely here jurisdiction in a kidnapping case here in Las Vegas."

Catherine's voice seemed a bit icily as she asked the next question. "And now that there are six people dead because of your decision?"

Lee's voice didn't change tone or timber, "Again, no disrespect intended. If I'd known Belinda or the Keyes family were in immediate jeopardy, then I would have contacted your department post haste."

"Can you share information of the case with us?"

"The IJM works in conjunction with the FBI and being these crimes happened in your jurisdiction, I will share you as much as I am privy.

"Samantha Keyes was abducted approximately three years ago. She came up missing from her daycare here in Las Vegas, 'Little Matty's Day Care' on Eastern Avenue. Your team of investigators and police found no incidences of foul play, even though the child was indeed missing. Until she was found several months ago, the case was still active within your department. Follow up was handled by the FBI, itself, if I'm not mistaken.

"During the course of Belinda's couseling sessions, Samantha recalled some of the specific details, which at the time would have broken open the case and lead to the discovery of the person/persons who initiated abductions and subsequent exploitation of minors.

"We do not fault your force's investigation into the original abduction because there was no evidence at all to suggest any wrong doing on anyone's part. It appeared the proverbial space ship came down and abducted the child, pardon my whimsy, but it is a standing joke as it were in our circle because in none of the investigations was there any signs of struggle, fraud, physical evidence or..."

Catherine Willow's voice interrupted Dr. Lee: "None of the investigations? I wasn't aware of other children missing from this particular day care."

"Little Matty's Day Care is in operation in 36 states with 427 locations. At some point in the last five years, a child has come up missing from 197 of those locations."

Sara took a deep breath. _I wonder why we didn't know about these other abductions? I also wonder which CSI worked the case. Cause if it were Ecklie, he didn't investigate all avenues properly. That man infuriates me. And not because he suspended me._

There was silence on the tape for a few seconds as Sara watched the face of Melvin Lee, trying to discern if the man were lying in any way. He still stared straight into the camera with an ease of expression as if he were still waiting on a train.

Sara jumped at Catherine's unexpected next words, "Matthew 'Little Matty' Norman was the star of the old sitcom, "Family Life" that ran from 1964 to 1973. He appeared in all 270 episodes as the middle son who was retarded. The comedy was in bad taste, but did last for nine years before advocacy groups called for the cancellation. The show exploited 'Little Matty's" handicap."

"That is correct," the dapper man replied.

"I happen to be acquainted Mr. Norman through family connections. There is no way Matty is involved in this. He doesn't have an ounce of malice in his body."

Melvin Lee's face changed, "He is and has always been champion of children. However, Mr. Norman is not he subject of the IJM/FBI investigation, merely his company."

"Can you share any further information with us? Or will we have to wait until the FBI arrives to know more about the circumstances of this case and related cases through-out the US?"

"Mrs. Willows, I am not trying to stifle your investigation in any way, but since you are in a friendly relationship with the owner of a business where we suspect wrong doing, I do not feel I should go on with this. You may call in the FBI."

The sound of Catherine's deep inhalation of breath, then, "One more question, if I may, Dr. Lee?"

The man hesitantly smiled, "As long as it's not about Mr. Norman or his company."

"Did Belinda Jacobson wear the perfume 'Chanel No. 5'?"

He looked puzzled for a moment, then replied, "I have absolutely no clue as to her preference in colognes."

The questioning ended, although Catherine handled the interview very well, Sara still had more questions than answers. She knew she should begin looking into 'Little Matty's Day Care', but without Grissom's okay, she wasn't sure she should interfere with an FBI investigation. _It probably wouldn't hurt to do a quick internet search on other company personnel_.

Sara quickly thanked Archie for use of his AV equipment. She smiled at him, but quickly deflected another attempt from the geek to flirt with her. After going to her personal work space and reading about the day care and personnel, she had an inspiration. But first she needed to see Grissom and as she walked down the hall to his office, a myriad of thoughts ran amok in her brain.

_Wonder if I'll be promoted for solving this case? _

_Ha. Not likely._

When she reached the doorway of Grissom's eclectic office, the place she tended to linger on more than a few occasions, she looked inside and saw the man of her desires sitting at his desk, talking to a man whose back was to her that she didn't recognize.

Grissom looked up and gestured her in with the wave of his hand. He stood and walked around his desk as Sara entered the room, placing his hand on the back of the chair the other man was seated upon.

"Sara, this is Agent Victor Monahan of the FBI."

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Okay, so I totally stink at updates. I wrote this chapter ten times and never liked any version, then football became more important than CSI. Both my teams, the LSU Tigers and the New Orleans Saints are doing really well. And I forgot about this story for a while. I know, that's blasphemy, but it is what it is.

Anyway, if it weren't for MSCSIFANGSR kicking my butt about this story, going so far to even rant about my lack of updates while in Superdome last night when the Saints destroyed the Lions, I probably would be happy in my oblivion and hung-over from too much partying, but as it is, you have the next chapter in this story. Hope ya'll enjoy.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 8**

"Victor, this is Sara Sidle," Grissom said then immediately stood up from his desk, pushed the chair back and made his way from behind the desk to insinuate himself between the seated man and Sara. Grissom took her elbow and lead her to sit in the chair opposite the FBI agent.

"Sara is part of my investigation team," Grissom continued to stand between the two guests in his office. "CSI-Level 3, trained by Mike Lewis out of San Francisco. Harvard and Berkley educated."

_His behavior is a bit odd_, Sara thought. She then attempted to look at the tall, not very slender man as he offered his hand to Sara, but Grissom seemed to be trying to block him from her.

"Jesus, Gil. There's no need for you to cock-block her from me. You know very well I'm a married man." The man shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Sara, then looked directly at Grissom. "I'm not trying to steal your woman."

Grissom stood for a moment doing his best fish impersonation while looking at the dark haired, slightly balding man.

Sara smiled at Monahan, and shook her head, as if saying, "No, I'm not his woman." Then Sara shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "But I wouldn't mind if I were."

Monahan smiled back at Sara. The two appeared to be communicating wordlessly.

"Vic..." Grissom started but instead walked back to behind his desk.

Sara looked back and forth between the two men for a moment as she assessed the situation. Grissom, embarrassed, tensed and then relaxed. Victor Monahan, on the other hand smirked then winked at Sara as she stole a quick look at him. She concluded that these two men knew each other a long time before either entered Grissom's office for this meeting.

"Gil's never had any manners," Monahan's accent to Sara's native ears was clearly Southern Californian. "He was, of course, such a shy child. In fact so painfully shy..."

Sara's whole body went on high alert. She was definitely interested in what the man was trying to say about Grissom's past, since she knew relatively little about her boss' life other than his work persona. The past few days had lead to new insights and revelations about Grissom, but Sara knew that he wouldn't want the FBI agent, whether friend or not to share things about him that no one else knew. She was becoming very uncomfortable.

"Vic, stop. Sara doesn't need to hear all of this. We're here to discuss the FBI's interest in our case. You're..."

"Gil, stop!" Monahan's tone rose a decibel as Sara watched Grissom deflate. Victor laughed, "Gil, you need to chill out." He then turned to his right and placed his hand on Sara's knee. She flinched and he seemed to understand, removing his hand before saying, "Ms. Sidle, maybe you should, too." He paused for a few moments looking between the two. "It'd probably be a good idea if the two of you would chill together sometime, outside of work that is."

To Sara's credit, she found herself blushing when she shyly hazarded a look in Grissom's direction. The fact her boss' face uncovered by his beard was flushed deep red, surprised her. And not to mention the fact the two of them had 'chilled' together only a few hours ago. But Monahan couldn't know that.

There were several tense seconds as brown and blue eyes clashed, neither willing to look away. But the moment was broken by the hearty laughter of Victor Monahan.

Sara blushed slightly again, then studied the agent who appeared to be in his late forties, and had a close crop of blond hair. He was not exactly obese, but the scales probably tipped in the 275 range. Sara couldn't quite decide who was taller between the two men, because Monahan was still seated, but she gave the edge to Grissom just because he was Grissom.

"I promise I'll get to the case in a minute. It's not often I can embarrass this guy," he pointed to the still slightly blushing Grissom. "So, I'll start at the beginning. Gil and I grew up together, neighbors in a small community, near LA. We're not bosom buddies because he's so much older than me. He likes to lord that over me, probably does the same to you too, since he's your boss." He looked pointedly at Sara.

With her return smirk, Victor continued, "My dad was a cop and he used his pull to get Gil his first job at the LA Coroner's office. My dad and the medical examiner were drinking buddies and since Gil liked autopsies and dead things, it was a match so made in heaven."

Sara watched Grissom who slightly blushed at the story. His blush not nearly as deep as before, but it endeared him to her all the more. _He's such an attractive man._

"Fast forward a few of years, my dad was pissed when I joined the bureau. You know the drill, local cops hate the FBI, then local cop's son defies father, etc., etc., etc. It took a long time for my dad and I to get back on speaking terms, but Gil's mom intervened and brought us back together. In fact, Ms. Betty introduced me to my bride of fifteen years, seems Gil wasn't interested in her, since he still preferred dead things. Gil, here, was my best man. So, we're family, even if Gil thinks it should be all business."

Victor, again, placed his hand on Sara's knee, and this time, she didn't attempt to remove it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't involved in this investigation earlier. Three days ago I was in New Orleans on a case with strong ties to this one," he paused looking from Grissom to Sara. His tone had changed from fun-loving to a clipped business tone in seconds flat.

"A four year old child had been abducted from a day care in a suburb of New Orleans. The case was without any evidence of foul play. However with a tip from an FBI informant, the child was found alive, dirty and hungry but unharmed in a storage container by the Harbor Police, along with seven other children ranging in age from 3 to 6. Suffice to say, it appears all the children were abducted from the same chain of daycare centers from different areas of the country. And all of the centers are owned by the same "Little Matty" Norman. Several of our agents are on their way to Mr. Norman's residence. He will be taken in for questioning and Gil, you and Sara are welcome to attend that session at our field office."

"Samantha Keyes was abducted in 2001, missing from her daycare, also owned by Norman. Our crime lab found no links or improprieties between the daycare and the missing girl. Last year, she was rescued by the International Justice Mission and returned to her family. Were you part of that investigation?" Sara looked sternly at Monahan.

"Yes, Ms. Sidle, I was." He paused for a moment and continued, "I interviewed Miss Keyes along with Belinda Jacobson and her parents. All regretfully, dead now." Monahan stared at his feet as the moment of silence passed.

"Samantha was an exceptional child. Very smart. She remembered more details about her ordeal than most children in similar predicaments. But not everything. Not to trivialize what happened to her and others as an ordeal, but it boggles even my jaded mind at the experiences she suffered." He paused. "Belinda and I were in frequent contact. She called me three days ago and left me a voice message."

He pulled out his cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons, then the strained voice of a desperate woman filled Grissom's office:

"Victor, this is Bee. I believe the Keyes are in danger. I'm watching their house. Do you think I should call in the cops? I'm really scared for them. Call me back, please."

"When I called her back, it was too late. I called the field office here in Vegas to send her some help and was told of the murders. I wrapped up what I needed to in New Orleans and am here now. I want to find the bastard that did this to them."

Sara nodded slowly at his words and vowed to herself she'd help him in any way that lead to finding justice for the Keyes, Jacobson, and all the children who'd been forced into slavery.

She looked up and met Grissom's eyes. What she saw surprised her. He was no longer 'Gruesome Grissom' without emotions. His look betrayed his inner feelings and Sara was able to quickly detect empathy, rage, and something else she couldn't quite name.

Grissom cleared his throat, looked away from Sara, then spoke for the first time since Monahan had told him 'to chill' earlier, "I have a couple of questions, Victor. First and foremost, our crime scenes both at the Keyes residence and in Jacobson's car, there was a strong presence of the perfume, Chanel No. 5. Do you have any idea what that means?"

"About three weeks ago, Belinda and I were questioning Samantha, Belinda wore that particular fragrance. Samantha became increasingly agitated and her father, Wayne terminated the interview very quickly. About a week ago, Belinda asked Samantha what made her so upset and Samantha replied 'the bad person smelled like that.'"

"As I'm sure both of you are aware, the olfactory memory is one of the most reliable. Explicit memory is involved with olfactory memory as compared to implicit memory which is open for the interpretation of the person having the memory. Samantha told Belinda then that the person who initially took her and held her before she was taken across international borders wore the perfume. On their next meeting, Belinda carried several vials of different perfumes and asked Samantha to identify the one her abductor wore and Samantha selected 'Chanel No. 5' without further comment."

Sara spoke up, "Is the suspect a woman?"

"That Ms. Sidle, we don't know." Monahan's cell phone buzzed, and he excused himself to take the call.

When the man left the room, Grissom and Sara sat silently, both attempting to make sense of the information Monahan had given them.

Within a minute, the FBI agent returned in a rush and stated, "Come on, Gil and Ms. Sidle, we've got a crime scene to investigate. Our agents have found a male DB at Norman's residence. Agents aren't a hundred perscent sure, but given the circumstances, they postulate the body is Norman's. There is a note and it appears to be a suicide."

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** So, an update to this story within a week. You may ask why and I would answer, "My football teams both lost in the last week and I was so depressed that I tried to get over it by writing a little GSR. But no promises on the next update." Thanks to MSCISFANGSR for the quick beta and I hope you all enjoy.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 9**

Sara Sidle entered the immaculately decorated foyer of the mansion owned by Matthew Norman with Gil Grissom on one side of her and Victor Monahan on the other. Grissom was closer to her than he'd been in a long time and his hand had lingered on her back as he assisted her over the uneven stone walkway into the house.

She held her kit in both hands, sandwiched as she was between the two men. She closed her eyes for a brief second, mentally preparing herself for the crime scene. She took in a deep breath and detected the lingering odor of Chanel No. 5 in the enclosed air of the foyer and was transported back to her childhood.

"_Sara, what do you want?" Her mother's voice seemed different somehow, but Sara couldn't decide exactly what had changed, until she noticed her mother hadn't moved her lips._

"_What's wrong, momma?" The woman didn't answer. The six year old looked up into mirror as the woman was carefully applying make-up, when she finished, she picked up a clear square bottle containing a yellow liquid. Laura Sidle opened the bottle and dappled her finger on the opening and placed her finger once behind each ear and then at the base of her throat._

"_You smell good. What does Channel No 5 mean, is it something like that's on tv?"_

"_No, it's a perfume, Sara. It's called 'Chanel Number Five'. A woman named Co Co Chanel invented it. She lived in Paris, France..." Her mother's voice was still different and the young Sara Sidle watched her mother's mouth as it moved slowly and occasionally with some words, Sara could see some metal flash inside her mouth._

"_Momma, you got metal in your mouth. Why come?" Laura didn't answer her. What the young Sara didn't know was that her mother's jaw had been wired shut because her father had fractured her mandible during a fight the previous week. After a few minutes, Sara added, "I'm gonna grow up and live in Paris, France. And you can go, too. But daddy, he can't go, 'cause he's mean to you."_

Sara shook her head quickly to dislodge the memory.

_Two weeks ago, I was suspended for a few days for insubordination. Grissom confronted me at my apartment and I spilled my whole sordid story to him. I thought I was closer to him; then the next week he goes out to dinner with Sophia Curtis. This week, I've seen him nearly naked, met his dog and his friend and know more about him now than I ever did. So, what's next week hold? He and Sophia Curtis getting married? _

Sara shook her head again and noticed that Victor had his cell phone plastered to his ear off to her right and Grissom was photographing the slumped body of Matthew Norman in a large brown La-Z-boy recliner situated in front of a large screen television which was showing scenes from what she assumed was an episode of "Family Life" which starred 'the incomproble Little Matty Norman'.

There was a large exit wound on the left side of his head slightly above the ear and a .357 Smith and Wesson that dangled precariously in his right hand between his middle finger and his palm. Blood splatter intricate patterns could be seen on the chair, the wall and on the adjoining table which held several pairs of glasses, a remote control and a tumbler filled midway with a brownish liquid. Each item was covered in brain matter and blood.

From where Sara stood, she could still smell now sickly sweet odor of Chanel No. 5, but her eyes focused on the television screen. She had never actually watched the television series which had starred the young Matthew Norman.

She knew the series ran for nine years from 1964 to 1973, and she knew from research on this case that "Little Matty" had suffered the blunt of cruel jokes about his oblivious mild retardation. It was said that his parents had made a significant amount of money on the series and the young man never benefited from their attentions. In the early 1980's, one of the networks had tried to syndicate the show, but Matthew Norman's lawyers had blocked their efforts. They sued the producers, his parents, the networks and the production companies for profits and Norman was awarded an undisclosed amount of money, rumored to be in the high hundred millions. The show was successfully blocked for syndication and was never seen in reruns.

With some of the compensation money, he began "Little Matty's Day Care." He headed the organization in which there were more than 400 centers in 36 U.S. States. His most sincere wish was that no child should ever be exploited, which in turn became the motto of the organization. He left the day to day operation to others and spent the majority of his time at the Tangier's casino, when he would feed the slot machines. He and Sam Braun became close personal friends. In fact, Norman was investing heavily in the future of a new casino project Braun had in the works, tenatively called 'Eclipse'. The groundbreaking on this project was to be in the fall of 2006.

That was the main reason Catherine had been barred from the case by Sheriff Atwater. And why she backed away from the case almost gracefully while under pressure from the sheriff and lab administrator. Sara had not seen Catherine since swing shift had completely lost the case to the night shift, but if she had to imagine, Catherine would carry some residual hard feelings for a while.

Sara shifted her kit from her right hand to her left hand as she looked over the crime scene. Something bothered her about it then an idea fell into place.

"I think the body has been repositioned; this is not a suicide."

Grissom stopped photographing the body and looked up at Sara for a moment before returning to his task of photographing the body.

"What makes you think that, Ms. Sidle?" Victor Monahan's voice was in her ear and she startled at his intrusion of her personal space.

"Number one: The gun is in his right hand and clearly he was left handed."

"How do you know that, Sara?" Grissom's tone was dismissive, but he did sound interested. He held the camera in his hand as he looked directly

"Look up on the television screen. Matthew Norman was left handed. The kids are giving him a hard time for being 'different' that they were." In the scene, a twelve year old Matty Norman was standing with a baseball bat in his hands in the batter's box on the right side the awaiting a pitch in a baseball game. He was clearly batting left handed.

"Good eye. Okay, I'll give you that one, what else you got?" Victor said, smiling at Grissom. She could see Victor's hand signaling something to Gil, but she was unsure what was going on between the two old friends.

Sara continued, "Number two: from this angle, the blood splatter doesn't quite line up."

Victor squinted for a moment at the body, then looked at Gil again and flashed some more quick hand signals. "Yes, I can see that. Anything else, Ms Sidle or can I call you Sara?" Victor was clearly amused.

"Yes and number three: Someone else was in the room when the murder occurred." Sara crossed her arms across her chest and it appeared she daring either man to question her.

"And what evidence do you have that relays that particular piece of evidence?"

Sara turned to smile at Victor and replied, "Nothing concrete right this second, but if I may, Grissom?"

"Yes?"

"I could call the lab and have someone bring out the artificial nose."

Grissom nodded. "Do you detect an odor?"

"Chanel No. 5."

"Be sure not to call anyone from swing shift or Greg Sanders. None of them are allowed any dealings in this case." Grissom's voice held a strong commanding tone and he returned to his photographing. "Oh, and Sara when you're done with the call, you have the perimeter."

Sara felt the air go out of her. "Thanks," she muttered.

David Phillips and one of the other assistant coroners entered the residence with a stretcher. David looked at Grissom and asked, "Can we remove the body now?"

Sara couldn't hear his reply as she pulled out her phone. She watched as David spread open the black body bag over the stretcher. She had forgotten that Victor was still standing in her personal space when his whispered voice assaulted her ear. "Great job, none of us, Gil, the FBI techs or even myself noticed those things right off the bat. You did good, Sara."

Sara blushed at his compliment, when he continued, "I've known Gil a long time and although he doesn't show it, he likes you more than any woman he's ever known."

"No, he doesn't." Sara quickly retorted, but Monahan was asking the FBI agents who discovered the body where 'that damn suicide note' was located. The younger of the agents had a look of pure fear cross his face at the sound of his supervisor's voice.

She took a deep breath, the only other CSI who was assigned to this case was Sophia Curtis. She quickly dialed her number.

"Curtis."

"Sophia, Grissom needs you to bring the nose out to the Norman residence."

"Why didn't he call me himself?"

"He delegated that task to me since he's helping the coroners bag the body."

"Tell him I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Sara ended the call and made her way outside. The lawn was xeroscaped according to Las Vegas city ordinance. She set her kit down on one of the asymmetrical stones of the walkway and took a deep breath. She remembered the heat Grissom's hand on her back when they'd gone into the house. He was such an enigma. She covered her mouth as a yawn escaped and wondered when she would be able to go to sleep. She then turned her attention back to the job at hand.

The walkway was made to resemble broken concrete in various sizes which was designed to closely resemble the exterior of the two story, 15 bedroom mansion. With camera in hand, she began photographing the edge of the dry set Ozark walkway.

After several minutes, she noticed a deep oval shaped indention in the sand. She took out an evidence marker, not exactly sure of what she'd found, but to be safe, she marked it anyway. She continued and a few feet she found the same indention and for the next 20 feet to the curb of the street, she found evidence of a possible high heeled shoe striking the ground.

She was making a shoe impression when Sophia Curtis showed her identification to the FBI guarding the crime scene. Sophia didn't even acknowledge her as the woman's own heels clicked hard against the concrete. Sara continued working crouched over the ground for about 30 minutes and was about to stand up to relieve her back when a hand suddenly appeared on her elbow to assist her into standing.

"Who's the blonde CSI bitch who keeps talking to herself?" Victor asked when Sara achieved the standing position.

"What? Grissom didn't introduce the two of you?"

"You don't have to be snarky. I told you, the man doesn't have any manners."

"Sophia Curtis. She just transferred into our shift from days. I haven't worked with her much, so I don't know much."

"She likes Gil," he smirked.

"Yeah, they went to dinner last week." Sara replied quietly.

"And how did that make you feel?" With no answer forthcoming from Sara, who had just looked at him with the patented Sara Sidle glare, Victor laughed. "Aah, I see. You were jealous."

"I was not."

"Were too."

"What are we, twelve?"

Victor smirked and then without warning, he pulled a strand of Sara's hair. "Yeah!"

Sara acted for a moment that she was mad, then smiled. But her smile died quickly on her lips when Grissom walked out of Norman's residence with his hand planted firmly on Sophia Curtis' low back.

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** It makes me happy to know that there are people out there who are still reading this story. As always, thanks to my beta for making me a better writer. This chapter contains direct quotes from "One Hit Wonder" Season 3 Episode 14; "Too Tough To Die" Season 1 Episode 10; and lyrics to the song "Kentucky Rain" as sung by Elvis Presley and mentions of child abuse.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 10**

"Sara?" Grissom's voice broke the spell of the moment. She had been staring at his hand that had been lodged against Sophia's low back only seconds ago. That same hand had rested against hers only hours ago when they had arrived at this crime scene containing the dead body of 'Little Matty' Norman.

She looked up into his blue eyes and then sheepishly looked to the ground. "Yes?"

"Did you find anything probative out here?" He was looking straight into her with his piercing blue gaze, she could feel his eyes upon her. They seemed to encompass every inch of her. She felt momentarily aroused under his intense scrutiny.

_Why must he do things like that to me when only seconds before his hands were on another woman?_

Sara took a deep breath and answered: "Evidence that someone wearing heels ran out of the house. The shoe impressions begin approximately 6 feet from the entry way and end at the street. The stride length averages to 78.66 inches. Which means..."

"The person is 69 inches tall." Grissom answered almost immediately.

"Yes. Although stride lengths vary between males and females. But with the evidence the person was in heels, I thinking woman, but this is Vegas, so it could be a man at 68 inches tall." Sara glanced toward Victor, who was standing next to Sophia watching the two CSI's interact.

"Are you a physiologist?" Victor laughed as he elbowed Sophia, while looking at Sara.

"No, a physicist." She answered.

"It shows." Victor looked at Sophia then whispered, "You don't really stand a chance against her." Then in his regular voice, he continued, "What is your specialty?"

Sophia Curtis answered without preamble, "I majored in criminal justice and have extensive background in police work."

In the meantime, Grissom and Sara's bodies seemed to gravitate toward each other without forethought from either of them.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Alright, let's head back to the lab so we can log this evidence. Sara as soon as you're done, head on home. Shift is over. Sophia, the same. Victor, I'm sure you have important FBI things to do."

A huge smile broke out on Victor's face. "Why thank you there boss man." Victor gestured with his hand on her back for Sophia to head for her Denali. "I'll ride with Miss Curtis here. Gil, you and Sara can ride together. Bye."

With that Sophia shot Grissom a long pleading. perplexed look, but he merely shrugged and headed with Sara toward his own LVMPD issued Denali.

As he lifted the back hatch to place their equipment into the trunk area, Sara handed him her kit and evidence bags. She shyly smiled at Grissom. "When I'm done at the lab, do you mind if I come over to your house and borrow your dog? So he and I can go running?"

"Sounds like a good idea. I'm sure Hank could use a little exercise. But what about you, shouldn't you get some sleep, instead of running?" He shut the hatch, made his way to the drivers side and got into the vehicle. Sara turned and hopped into the passenger side shutting the door firmly as she strapped on her seatbelt.

She continued their conversation, "I need to run first. If I'm not totally exhausted before I sleep, then I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about things that are better left alone."

"Your parents?"

Sara was shocked at his question. It really wasn't like Grissom to bring up personal things while working. She decided that honesty was the best policy. "Yes, I think about them sometimes but also about things like my life in foster care, some crime scenes that won't go away, even you..."

"Do you ever talk to your biological brother about the abuse in your past?"

"I don't have a 'biological brother'. What are you talking about?" She looked at him sharply as he turned left onto the highway, headed back to Las Vegas on I-15.

He cleared his throat before reciting: "I quote, 'When I was a kid, I was playing hide-and-seek one day and I found this plastic bag under my big brother's bed. I thought it was a bag of dirt so I took it to my mom. Turned out it was his bag of weed. He was grounded for a year.' Unquote."

Sara smiled to herself and replied, "What do you tape everything I say?"

He looked at her a second and smirked slightly, but didn't answer. He raised his eyebrows in question as if to ask her to answer his question.

"I am my parents only child. The brother I spoke of was a foster. After he was grounded, he retaliated against me every chance he got. I stayed in trouble whether I'd done anything or not and finally I was shipped off to another family."

She took a deep breath and watched other cars on the highway and the desert landscape pass by as they neared their exit. Grissom didn't say anything. She recognized that he wanted more from her, but he wasn't going to ask.

"In my life, I've always tried to avoid being questioned too closely about my past. It's easier to throw around a few factual tidbits around without being too specific so it would seem like I was normal. Like I had a normal life."

There was silence between them for a while. The only sounds in the Denali came from the engine, passing trucks, and the music from a nearly muted radio. The local oldies station was sponsoring a "Two for Elvis Tuesday" in which a listener should call the radio station for a chance to win a thousand dollars and tickets to see an all Elvis revue at a local casino. 'Burning Love' had just ended and the next song began playing.

For weeks, both Grissom, Sara, and the rest of the nightshift CSI's and lab techs had been bombarded with Greg Sanders' diligent pursuit of winning the grand prize in the radio station giveaway. Greg adored anything 'Las Vegas' and in his minds eye, Elvis made Vegas.

"Sara, call the radio station. Burning Love and Kentucky Rain."

"It's the two for Elvis, isn't it?" Sara quickly punched the phone number and was immediately rewarded with, "You qualify for the big Elvis prize package. Please stay on the line to give your personal information. Thanks for listening to 95.1."

She mocked whispered to Grissom, "We qualified!"

He grinned as he turned up the volume and the soft voice of Elvis Presley filled the cab of the SUV:

'Seven lonely days and a dozen towns ago  
>I reached out one night and you were gone<br>Don't know why you'd run, what you're running to or from  
>All I know is I want to bring you home.'<p>

Sara watched as Grissom listened to the lyrics and wondered what he was thinking as he took the correct exit from the interstate and made a series of complex twists and turns in the busy streets of Las Vegas. As the song ended on the radio, Grissom turned into the lab's parking area and parked the Denali.

He cleared his throat then spoke quicker and quieter than he normally did, "If we win the big prize, Sara, I want us to go together to the show and then maybe dinner. What should we do with the thousand dollars?"

She was flabbergasted. "Really?" Had Grissom just asked her out on a theoretical date? "I gave the radio station my personal information, Griss, not your's. And I would donate my winnings to charity."

"But need I remind you, Miss Sidle that I gave you the correct answers."

"Yeah, that's true." With that quick answer she shot out the driver's door and opened the hatch to get their stuff. She reached for her kit as Grissom walked around to the back of the truck. She smiled up at him and replied, "If we win, I'll go with you."

She didn't notice the huge smile on his face as she turned her back to him and entered the main doors to the Crime Lab.

GSRGSRGSRGSR

A couple hours after Grissom and Sara's exchange in the parking lot at the Crime Lab, the long legged brunette stood in front of Grissom's townhouse for the second time in less than a week. She nervously adjusted the strap of her running bra with her left hand and self consciously smoothed out the skin tight jogging shorts against her thigh.

Sara Sidle had always considered herself to be a brave woman, but as she stood again in the entryway to Gil Grissom's townhouse, she felt the overwhelming urge to flee and run away as quickly as possible. Had he really asked her out? She knew she shouldn't read too much into his behavior. _Maybe he was just a huge Elvis fan_, she thought.

She'd rung the doorbell and so far, there had been no answer. Just standing there was almost unbearable, almost like barring her soul to him. She shifted her weight back and forth, first on one foot then the other.

_These new running shoes are the best I've ever had,_ she mused over the purchase of her new 'New Balance' running sneakers to keep her mind off of their possible date.

Then an idea flitted through her brain: _He could be at the swimming pool. Maybe I could sneak over there and watch him swim._

She smiled in spite of herself at the mental image of Grissom dripping wet, with only a towel around his neck and those red swimming trunks as she and Catherine had seen him only days before.

_Oh my! He was a good looking man._

She rang the doorbell again, and was rewarded with the muffled sound of Hank barking on the other side, then the door opened. Sara had never met the blue eyed woman on the other side, but she knew immediately who it was. Sara again seriously considered running away as fast as she could.

She could see the reason of her visit, sitting clearly at attention, near the open door, but Hank didn't move from his spot.

Her voice was dry and monotone and something about the inflection bothered Sara. "Who are you?"

She was about seventy, a face lined with age with a familiar cleft in her chin. She wore round framed glasses and her expression was hard. Imitimadating.

Sara couldn't put her finger exactly what was going on, but she was automatically scared of the woman standing in front of her. _Oh, God, why did I come over now, without calling first. Grissom will be pissed because I'm talking to his mother._

"I'm here for Hank," Sara said as she looked over her shoulder hoping Grissom would magically appear behind her to save her from this embarrassment.

Hank made a slight movement toward Sara, but Mrs. Grissom took a hold of his collar and didn't allow the dog to get up from his sitting position. She let go of the dog when he didn't move and then touched Sara's shoulder with a quick jarring movement, startling her as the young woman scanned the area behind her.

"I'm deaf." Betty Grissom sounded extremely aggravated., "Would you look at me when you speak to me?"

Sara literally felt the woman's anger rolling off of her. "I'm sorry." Sara enunciated each syllable. "I'm here for Hank."

"You don't have to patronize me, young lady." Betty gave Sara a rather pointed look, then continued, with the same slow monotone droning voice, "You're here for the dog? You must be the one Gil said was coming over to take Hank for a walk. Do you offer some sort of dog walking service? And is that your uniform? It's kinda skimpy and inappropriate for work."

Sara knew she could run at an average of 9.6 miles an hour. She considered bolting for the open road as compared to standing there taking abuse from of all people, Gil Grissom's mother.

"Is Grissom here He knows me," Sara countered quickly, speaking directly to the woman.

"My son is not home right now."

"Grissom told you I was coming; I'm here. Can I take Hank or do I need to leave?" Sara continued to speak directly to the woman. She made eye contact with her. It just so disconcerting to see Grissom's gaze on someone else.

"My son wouldn't trust his dog to just anyone." Which to Sara sounded like Mrs. Grissom was really saying the her son wouldn't trust his heart to anyone.

"I guess I'll leave then..." Sara began before she was interrupted by the sound of Victor Monahan's voice.

"Sara, nice to see you again. And I must say I like your choice of your wardrobe. You look very hot, girl." Then he looked at Betty Grissom standing in the doorway and signed, "Where's Gil?"

Mrs. Grissom replied in sign language, "He's gone to pick up some steaks at the market. Who is this girl?"

"Probably your future daughter in law." Victor signed and spoke the words aloud so Sara could hear them, too.

"No," came the woman's response in her coarse monotone.

"Yes," stated Victor unequivocally.

"She's clearly not good enough." Betty stated looking directly at Sara.

"I guess, I'll leave..." Sara began again.

"No, Sara. Stay." Victor said then signed and spoke to Betty, "You better get used to her, Betty. She is Gil's equal in every way. I'd venture to say his soul mate." His expression was one of solemn resignation, then he spoke and signed, "Betty Grissom, this is Sara Sidle. Sara, this is Betty Grissom."

Neither of the two women said anything until Victor interjected, "'Pleased to meet you' is the proper response from both of you."

Sara broke the ice and extended her hand in greeting, "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Grissom." When the woman reached to shake Sara's hand, Sara was suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of Chanel No. 5 rising off of the older woman. And Sara was unable to quell the flashback as another memory surfaced.

_A seven year old Sara Sidle looked at the square bottle of Chanel No. 5 on her mother's antique French dressing table. She picked up the bottle, intending to take a sniff of the beautiful fragrance as her father walked into the room._

_"What are you doing with that, you nosy brat?"_

_"I...I...I was just, just looking at, at it." Sara stuttered. The bottle shattered as it hit the floor when it slipped out of her trembling hands._

_Her father's voice was menacing, "You got a hundred bucks?"_

_"No, sir. Why?" She edged slowly toward the carefully made bed, thinking she could hide underneath the bed._

_"Your spoiled mother couldn't live without that perfume and I paid that much to placate her sorry ass. And now, you wasted all of it." He stealthfully made his way toward her. "I'm going to take the money out of your hide, you little bitch." _

_He grabbed her, then jerked her arms forcibly toward him, then forced her facedown on the bed. He began to spank her. And he continued for a long time, even after she'd lost feeling in her butt. _

"You okay, Sara?" Victor asked, concern on his face.

Sara shook her head to clear the images in her brain. "Yeah. Ugh, I really need to go run. Is Hank going or not?"

Betty Grissom looked exasperated before answering, "Let me get his leash." She disappeared into the townhouse as Sara and Victor stood uncomfortably in the doorway.

Sara could tell Victor wanted to say something to her, but he remained silent.

In less than a minute, Mrs. Grissom returned with the leashed dog and handed him over to her without preamble. Sara mumbled her thanks because the dog took off in a full run on the concrete walkway toward a small grassy area. Sara followed the dog and was happy to finally to be able to fulfill her desire to flee from the townhouse.

When she turned back to look at the townhouse, she saw Victor usher Mrs. Grissom back into the townhouse and close the door. Hank pulled harder against the leash and off the two ran at a frenzied pace.

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I have conceded that I personally will never complete this story. However, the story will be finished thanks to a group effort by several talented people: MSCSIFANGSR, TORCAN, and JELLYBEANCHICHI.

There hasn't been an update on this story in over a year. Hopefully between the three mentioned above, you won't have to wait that long for the next chapter.

And here is the next chapter:

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 11**

Later that same afternoon, Sara Sidle decided that sleep was no longer a viable option. She definitely wasn't happy just laying around in bed, staring at the ceiling. Fantasies involving Grissom and Paris, the city of light, usually eased her mind, but images from the case kept her awake. Something about the Chanel No. 5 bottle on the floor of the Keyes residence was bothering her, but she couldn't quite put a finger on what was bothering her about it.

She gave up trying to sleep when she thought about when she'd returned Hank to Grissom after their run together. She didn't want to think about that at all. So she showered, quickly dressed, and was out her front door with her small sack of garbage in one hand and her purse in the other. She threw the plastic bag into the huge green dumpster located in her apartment parking lot close to her vehicle.

The drive to the Crime Lab didn't take long, even in the late afternoon traffic. When she parked in the high-rise garage, she looked over the vista of Las Vegas as it spread out before her. Sara saw before her a mixture of buildings, domestic and commercial with long shadows intermingled with bright sunlight and a heavy sodium glare emanated from the concrete maze of streets.

The heat was in excess of a hundred degrees and it nearly sizzled her brain as she sat enclosed in her small Toyota while the air conditioning blew on the highest level.

She sighed when she realized she was six hours early for her shift. But as she looked around at the other cars in the lot, she was surprised to see her other team members vehicles. It appeared Grissom, Greg, Sophia were already at the lab. Sara knew very well that didn't mean they were at the lab as the crew worked odd hours and many times someone might carry a company issued SUV home to save time, especially on a hot case. She wondered if perhaps she'd been excluded in something, but decided not to let it bother her. Maybe it was as simple as the fact they couldn't sleep either.

A few minutes later, her locker door slammed without any malice on her part. A cup of coffee might help get a better handle on this sleepless day, she thought. As she rounded the corner, she lingered in the doorway of the break room, with the stealth of a burglar. She listened to the conversation between the two people sitting closer than one would normally expect.

"Jerry Brody." The name was spoken with such a distaste, Sara almost liked whoever it was, because she could tell Conrad Ecklie did not. She hoped it wasn't a suspect in a case, but something about the way they were talking suggested they were talking about a personal matter.

"So, he's the one adopted Morgan as his own and married your ex. Conrad, I don't know what to say," Catherine Willows replied, taking a sip of her coffee and she touched Ecklie's hand in genuine friendship or so it appeared to Sara.

"Morgan is in her second semester at UCLA. I still get to pay her tuition, even though she won't speak, write or even email me."

Catherine Willows looked up at Sara, almost like she wished her there. "Sara, hey. How the investigation going?"

Sara wasn't sure how to answer that question since Ecklie was sitting there, like he was interested in her answer. She was scared of him; she knew he held a considerable about of power over her being that he was the new director of the lab. He had suspended her for mouthing off to Catherine and himself. It felt good at the time, but she knew if Grissom hadn't saved her job, then she would be unemployed.

Sara took a deep breath before answering Catherine's question, "Nothing concrete other than we have seven dead people."

"It's a tough case. It's a shame the Sheriff pulled it out of Catherine's very capable hands." Conrad Ecklie looked pointedly at Catherine, then back to Sara. "But I'm sure you and the other members of Grissom's team will bring the case home for the crime lab." Ecklie said, as he again looked straight at Catherine. Sara could tell from the brief statement that Ecklie had no idea as to why the case had been taken from swing shift.

Sara shifted her gaze from Ecklie to Catherine and watched the swing supervisor clearly bite back a scathing retort to her direct superior. Catherine's demeanor changed then she smiled sweetly at Ecklie and then turned to Sara.

"You have any suspects yet?"

"None specifically, but later this evening, Brass will be questioning a couple of women who were basically in charge of the day to day operations of Little Matty's Day Care." Sara eyed the coffee pot, then turned to Ecklie, "Can I ask you a question about the original missing persons case involving Samantha Keyes?"

"Anything, Ms. Sidle," he looked up and met Sara's eyes. "I've got nothing to hide."

She had expected him to be defensive, instead it appeared he really was going to be helpful.

"Back then, did you have any reason to suspect anyone from the Day Care?"

"Sara, yes, I did suspect involvement, especially since the girl was missing from the day care center, itself. I went over their check in and out procedures and videos. There was video from that day that I logged. There was nothing. No ransom demands, no unidentified bodies that matched the Keyes girl. Absolutely nothing. It really appeared the child had gone 'poof'. The girl was there one minute and the next she wasn't. I suspected the parents, the employees of the center, the other parents, other children, even," Ecklie laughed for a moment.

"Honestly, I've never been involved in case so devoid of actual evidence. We didn't know then about all the other missing children from the day care centers across the US. If we knew, or if the FBI had deemed it necessary to share with us that information, we may have found and saved that little girl and her family from their recent fate."

"I've read over your old files. There were mentions of two women in your notes a Cheryl Davies and a Rebecca Boese. Neither were officially questioned, do you remember why?"

Ecklie took a sip of his coffee and then scratched behind his ear, "I remember a genuine concern over the welfare for the other children by one of those women. I can't remember exactly without re-reading my own notes. One was out of the country, something about a family death in Caribbean. Whichever one was gone came back to Vegas shortly afterward and she was questioned by Lockwood."

Catherine had been sitting at the break-room table following the questioning of Ecklie by Sara without adding to anything, but the mention of the former homicide detective brought her back into the conversation. "Cyrus was a good detective. What was he doing working a missing person?"

Ecklie shrugged his shoulders, "I think Officer Mitchell was the initial officer at the scene. The mother, Melinda Keyes got off work and went to pick up her three kids at the day care. One of them was missing. Mitchell called in for reinforcements and Lockwood answered the call. After several calls around to other parents and a quick search of the facility, Lockwood called CSI in. Jamison and I got that call. We fingerprinted about 30 kids, employees and parents and looked in every nook of the place and found nothing. We never found anything."

David Hodges walked into the room. "Sara, I have the results from the nose for the Norman case."

"Yeah, I was headed to see you after..."

"No need, I am here now," Hodges quickly acknowledged Ecklie and Catherine. "Your results are: C12H24O Aldehyde 2 Methylundecanal."

"Chanel No. 5," Sara muttered beneath her breath.

"Why yes, Sara. It's a beautiful abstraction of rose, ylang ylang, jasmine, violet, iris, green hyacinth with woody and raspberry nuances. My mother wears the fragrance." Hodges smiled and then looked at Ecklie, "You might like to meet my mother. You and she are of the same age."

Ecklie reddened, "Hmmm. I need to go check on case from day shift. Good night." He left the room quickly leaving his coffee mug on the table.

Catherine turned the handle of the cup toward her and picked it up along with hers. "I need to go check on Warrick and Nick's progress. Bye Sara," Catherine mimicked the use of a telephone with her fingers close to her ear and mouthed the phrase, 'Call me. I need to know details of you and Hank.' as she breezed out of the room leaving Sara alone with David Hodges.

"Although, Ecklie might not appreciate a woman of substance such as my mother. Grissom on the other hand..."

Sara felt her blood pressure elevate, but before Hodges could continue, Greg came in and poured healthy amount of coffee into his usual cup. "I heard you got the 'Two for Elvis' on Oldies 95.1. I am so jealous. How did you get through? I didn't know that you knew any Elvis songs. I can just picture it now: me, you, two hundred Elvis impersonators and a 'hunk, hunk of burning love'."

"Greg, if I win I'm going with..." Sara began but her cell phone began ringing.

"Sidle," she quickly answered. "Okay, I'll be right there."

"Sorry, guys but that was Brass. I got to head over to the PD. See you later."

Greg's face dropped as he sipped his coffee and she heard Hodges saying something about Tupelo, Mississippi as she left the break-room.

When she passed Grissom's office, it was dark and the door was shut. She wondered briefly where he might be, but decided it really wasn't any of her business. As she exited the main door to the crime lab, the heat nearly slapped her in the face. She quickly made her way to her hybrid car and allowed herself a couple of minutes to let the air conditioner cool off the lingering heat in the car.

She thought back to Catherine as the older woman left the break-room. _"Call me," she had said, but could I tell her what really happened?_

_Sweat poured off her body and saliva dripped off the end of the dog's tongue._

_She and Hank had run along the criss-crossing streets of Grissom's neighborhood. Her usual three miles went by quickly without too much thought as she struggled with the leash and the dog. Hank was a strong animal and he pulled her along at a much faster pace than she was used to._

_Sara wasn't able to process how angry she was at Mrs. Grissom as she and the dog were running. She decided to take a quick rest break afterwards near a fountain. She tried to keep the dog from drinking out of the chlorinated water and poured some water out of her sports bottle into her hand to rehydrate the dog. Hank sniffed around and peed on a few things and it finally hit her how much it really bothered her that Grissom's mother didn't like her._

_Sara thought: _Grissom doesn't judge people, but his mother does? How dare she? Mrs. Grissom thought I was a slut and an uneducated bimbo. And I always thought his mother would be this nice little old lady who knitted in her spare time. The bitch.

_She wasn't sure how long she had sit there until she felt Hank tugging at the leash. She knew he probably was ready to go back home and the two of them jogged back to Grissom's townhouse._

_When they arrived, Sara looked up and saw Grissom walking out of the front door toward them. He was dressed casually in clothes she'd never seen him wear. The shirt was a blue Hawaiian and the man had on sneakers. He was smiling as walked toward the dog and said, "'You've had a pleasant run. Shall we be trotting home again?'"_

_"'But the answer came as none,'" she said. "I don't think Hank can answer you."_

_"You know 'The Walrus and the Carpenter'?" Grissom sounded intrigued, but before Sara could answer, Hank quickly ran up to Grissom, then behind him, then back to Sara, and continued making circles around the two, looping the leash around both of them. They stood for a moment dazed before it dawned on them they were being tied together and were face to face, bodies pushed tightly together. Lips millimeters away from the others._

_One more bump from behind by the dog and their lips met for one sizzling second, before Sara felt Grissom's take possession of hers. She had what she thought of as an out of body experience when her mouth unconsciously opened to his and his tongue darted into her mouth. The moment could have lasted forever in Sara's opinion._

_"Gil, what are you and that woman doing?"_

_At the sound of his mother's voice, Grissom pulled away from Sara and said, while signing with his hands which had previously been attached to the posterior of Sara's silky jogging shorts. "Hank ensnared us in the cord of the leash. We were trying to get out."_

_Sara felt all of the air in her body deflate._

_"She is your employee, son," The monotone of her voice belayed her deafness. The words were spoken too loud for normal conversation. "Loosen yourself and come inside. It's not appropriate behavior." _

_Grissom looked down at Sara and unhooked the cord off of the dog's collar. "Spin around," he said to Sara as she pulled away from his embrace. "I am sorry, Sara." Grissom whispered as the cord fell to the ground._

_Sara steeled herself. "Accidents happen. No harm, no foul."_

_Grissom visibly sighed and then watched as Hank returned inside the house as his mother stood in the doorway watching their exchange._

_"Sara..."_

_"No, Grissom, it's okay. Nothing happened. I'm sorry."_

_"Sara..."_

_"No, Grissom. I need to go home and sleep. See you tonight."_

_She had left without looking back, gotten into her car and driven off, but her mind was reeling from the kiss._

Sara drove to the short distance to the police department, parked her car, put on her game face and walked into the building to attend the interrogation of Cheryl Davies. The woman was the manager of Little Matty's Day Care in Las Vegas, from which Samantha Keyes had disappeared three years ago. And hopefully in a little while, Sara Sidle was going to find answers to what really had transpired at the daycare when the girl disappeared.

**To be continued in the next chapter.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Here is the next installment of this story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favored, or followed this story since the last chapter. MSCSIFANGSR wrote this chapter and I betad it. Thanks to TORCAN for the feedback.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 12 **

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><p>From inside the viewing room of Interrogation Room number three, Sara Sidle could see her reflection in the two way mirror. She felt her hands tremble. Her hands were visibly shaking as she momentarily held her hands in front of her, attempting to calm down. She clenched her fingers in fists, so the man standing behind her wouldn't see how she was affected by his presence.<p>

She curled and uncurled her fingers as the trembling eased somewhat then completely stopped. The heavy rush of adrenaline was still in her body, but the intensity of the blood rushing through her veins had quelled somewhat.

But she still felt a little weak from being kissed by the man who stood immediately behind her.

Yes, Gilbert Grissom had kissed her for the second time within a twenty-four hour period.

She took another deep breath but refused to gaze into the mirror to gaze at his reflection. She just couldn't look at him right now. It was too much and too little.

Sara didn't know exactly what was going on with him, but to be kissed by her enterprising but uncompromising boss was totally unprecedented. The first time had been an accident. She still ached with the pleasure and the pain she derived from the experience and their first kiss would fuel her fantasies for some time to come. But this one, this second time with Grissom's lips locked with her own, hadn't been accidental, nor had it been interrupted by his mother.

When he had knocked on the door to the room, Sara and Brass had been questioning Cheryl Davies. The woman had been the manager and was currently the manager of Little Matty's Day Care Center in Las Vegas.

Sara looked up in surprise when she saw Grissom enter; her eyes widened when he'd asked her to 'please step outside for a moment'. She watched as he nodded respectfully to Brass and the woman sitting at the table. When he took her by the arm and lead her into the small cubical that allowed others to watch interrogations without the suspect being privy, she was confused.

"What is it, Grissom?" Sara had breathlessly asked when the door shut with an almost soundless click. "Have you learned something that is important to this investigation?"

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, "No," he began. "Since last night, I cannot stop thinking about you. Not like that is unusual. But I just wanted, no needed to see you."

"You interrupted our questioning for something personal?" She nearly whispered.

"Sometimes, there are more important things than the investigation; this is important, too." His hands were on her shoulders, then skimmed the surface of her skin along the sides of her arms. He took her hands into his then placed hers behind his back. Fascinated, she watched him move in very close and line up his mouth to hers, before closing his eyes and descending. One soft, moist, perfect kiss. Followed by another, and another and then a quick swipe of his tongue against her lower lip. Then he slipped it inside her mouth and their tongues fought for dominance as pleasure slithered though her body.

He pulled his head back away from hers and whispered, "I wanted to do this with you again."

Her blissfulness was short-lived, even with his fingers dancing down her spine. She pulled away from him and she was livid. "Grissom, this is the police station. Are you crazy? Anyone could see us in here."

He was silent for a moment then pulled her closer, "Not technically because the two-way mirror only reflects in this direction." He pulled her toward him again, and kissed her simply on the lips.

Sara Sidle was speechless at that point. She looked at the man still in her arms and questioned his sanity. It was so unlike him to do something so spur of the moment. It seemed very out of character for him.

"Are you suffering from a head injury? Or maybe have recently acquired a tumor on your brain? Because this is not your usual behavior."

Grissom laughed, "Not that I know of." He paused. "I know you think you know me, but my work and personal persona are separate."

"Be that as it may, we are at work and the Grissom I know would not do something like that." Sara wondered why she was arguing with the man who had just kissed her quite convincingly.

"You are correct." Properly chastised, Grissom looked in the interrogation room through the two-way mirror to avoid Sara's eyes. "I am sorry for..." He stopped as he listened to the woman talking to Detective Brass. Sara unconsciously moved to his side, their bodies brushed without either really noticing.

"Matthew was a figurehead only in the organization. He never visited any of the sites unless it was a grand opening. He was too busy feeding slot machines."

"You sound bitter. Enough to kill him?" Brass nearly sneered, but smiled sweetly toward the woman.

"Oh good Lord, no. I never had any dealings with the man himself, unless you count the time he showed up unexpectedly about three years ago. It was after the Keyes girl came up missing."

Brass looked ready to pounce on the woman who was in the forties. Cheryl Davies had graying dirty blonde hair that was cut short, near the scalp. She wore the uniform of those employed at Litttle Matty's Day Care: a pair a pressed khakis, blue polo with the embossed logo with her name in bright yellow and a pair of white flat sneakers. The woman wasn't wearing jewelry, nor any makeup.

"Oh, can you tell me more about that?"

"I was supposed to be out of town that whole week when Samantha was abducted. For my son's graduation from college in Los Angeles. UCLA. B.A. In computer sciences. I got called back into work the very evening of her disappearance. By my boss, Rebecca Boese. I took the first flight back from LAX. When I arrived at the center, Matthew was there then.

"All of the day cares are set up in the same manner: the reception area, restrooms to the right, manger's office to the left and a hallway back to the gym with trampolines and other gymnastic equipment the right, swimming pool on the left. Then the rest areas for the children on the left and changing rooms on the right. Then individual age appropriate class rooms, there are twelve of those. Finally in the back with only a fire exit, are the baby care areas."

"That's all fine and good, Ms. Davies. But Matthew Norman?"

"Yes, I was getting to that. He was coming out of the six year old class room. He and my boss were arguing. Rebecca is the corporate liaison for the entire company. She looked at me and said, 'Cheryl, Matthew and I are very concerned over your administration of this matter.'

"I said, 'Wait, I just returned. You're holding me responsible?'

"Matthew said, 'No, we merely want everything handled properly.'

"Rebecca said, 'I cannot handle the media or the police right now. My mother passed away this morning in St. Thomas. Matthew has graciously allowed me use of his private jet which is fueled and ready at the airport. I'm leaving now. You have to keep the circus from getting out of hand.'

"'I'll do my best.' I told them. Rebecca then gave me specific instructions on handling the media and the Keyes family. And that's when Melinda Keyes walked up to Matthew and slapped him in across the cheek."

"The mother of Samantha Keyes slapped Matthew Norman. That had to be interesting," Brass chuckled.

Grissom looked at Sara, "I think you need to head back in there." He pointed inside the room with his index finger.

Sara pulled herself away from his side and left the viewing room. She quickly entered the interrogation room and sat down in the chair she had previously occupied.

"Ms. Davies, my boss and I were watching your interview from behind the two-way mirror. I hope you are not offended, but he and I were listening intently to what you were saying. I have a couple of questions."

"Of course, what did you say your name was?"

"Sara Sidle."

"Ms. Sidle, feel free to ask whatever you need to ask." Cheryl Davies looked Sara straight in the eye and shrugged her shoulders. "And if your boss wants to join us from behind the mirror, that would be fine, too. I've got nothing to hide."

"That's good to know, Ms. Davies. Now, first, it was of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department's opinion that Ms. Boese was out of the country before, during and after the abduction of Samantha Keyes. Can you explain that?"

"No, I can't. Rebecca and Matthew were both in the building when I returned from Los Angeles."

"Okay, so my next question is what were they arguing about specifically? If you can remember."

"Their voices were raised. There were police officers there, children milling about, parents clamoring, telephones ringing off their hooks, it was complete chaos, but the long hall was quiet and unoccupied. They may not have been arguing, but it appeared that way to me."

"Do you remember exactly what was said?" Brass interjected.

"Rebecca was agitated. Matthew just looked like he was being chastised. I don't remember exactly, but she was screaming, 'the others, Matthew. It cannot get out.' I didn't know what she was talking about. I just thought they wanted to keep the publicity down for the welfare of the center."

"How did it happen that Mrs. Keyes slapped Matthew Norman?" Sara asked as she fingered a manila folder that lay on top of the table.

"She just appeared out of nowhere. When I came into the center, Mrs. Keyes was in the reception area with her other two children. They had two policemen with them. I had to show my id just to even get in the building. She slapped him, and said something to the effect, "How dare you let something like this happen? Where is she? Where is my baby?" She began crying and Matthew hugged her. Her son and other daughter were there in the hallway with us."

"What did Ms. Boese do then?"

Davies was quiet for a couple of moments, the expressions on her face changed from confident to confused. "I don't remember seeing Rebecca after that."

"What do you mean?" Sara latched on the woman's confusion.

"I mean, I don't remember seeing Rebecca after that. She and Matthew came out of the six year old classroom. They talked to me; Mrs. Keyes came up, slapped Matthew, he talked to her and myself for a while. Rebecca was just gone. I didn't realize it then, but she simply disappeared, too."

"Too?" Brass questioned.

"Yeah, like Samantha. Both of them. Hmmm. Samantha was six at the time of the abduction, so she would have been in that classroom."

Sara straightened her posture and went in for the kill, "Ms. Davies, I know it's been over three years ago, but do you mind if we returned to your facility and looked it over. Maybe our investigators missed something back then. We can get a warrant if we need to."

"No, I don't mind a bit and no need to go to all that trouble. You and Detective Brass and even your boss from behind the mirror are welcome. If it helps to clear up everything...from Samantha to Matthew's death. I'll be happy to do whatever I can to help."

Sara looked quickly up into the mirror, wondering if Grissom was still watching the interview. She smiled in the general direction of where he was standing.

Brass was thanking the woman for her co-operation as the woman left, when Grissom entered the room again.

"Sara, I need to see you in my office before you go with Brass on the next interview," Grissom looked at Sara briefly, then spoke to Jim Brass. "Jim, Victor Monahan was called to New Orleans on a matter that may or may not be connected to our investigation, here. Several more children have been rescued by the International Justice Mission. Two of them were formerly enrolled in Little Matty Day Cares in the cities from which they were abducted. He'll call to let us know if he finds out anything probative."

"That FBI guy seems like a stand up kinda guy." Brass looked from Sara and back to Grissom again, "I like him. The FBI not so much." He laughed and left the two crime scene investigators alone in the interrogation room.

"What did you need, Grissom?"

Momentarily distracted by the fact the two of them were alone, Grissom was admiring Sara's slim body. "Um, was Ms. Davies wearing Chanel No. 5?"

"I didn't even think about that during the interview. But no, she wasn't."

"That in itself doesn't mean anything. Don't forget to sniff Ms. Boese for the scent," Grissom laughed.

"I won't." Sara stood, poised to head out of the room. Rebecca Boese was waiting in Brass' office. They had not wanted the two women to see the other. Many times, they tried to play one suspect against the other by allowing them to see the other, either in the waiting room, or in the hallways, but in this case, Brass and Sara thought it best if the two women did not see the other.

"Umm, Sara, about..." Grissom began, he took off his glasses and looked into her brown eyes.

"Grissom, no."

"Sara, I need to apologize for my..."

"Grissom, no; we can't talk about this here."

"Okay, why don't Hank and I met you at that coffee shop around the corner from your apartment in the morning, so we can talk?"

She smiled and nodded her head. "That's a date."

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><p><strong>To be continued in the next chapter.<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **MSCSIFANGSR appears to be inspired by this story; thankfully her muse is clicking on all cylinders since mine has taken a hike. She wrote this chapter and I betad it this afternoon. I honestly didn't find anything wrong with it. If you find any mistakes then it's my fault for not finding them.

Thanks as always to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed or favorited this story.

**Chanel No. 5**

**Chapter 13**

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><p>The tall brunette entered the office of Detective James Brass immediately behind the small, dark, rotund woman as the owner of the office followed close behind her.<p>

Sara Sidle motioned for the woman to sit in the chair to the right of his large desk, as she took the one on the left.

She knew the microphone recording their session was pinned under the picture of Brass's daughter, Ellie. The picture stood to itself on the right side of the desk, near an empty cup which had previous held coffee, according to the brown stains she saw in the bottom of the cup.

The detective quickly took his seat behind the desk and templed his hands as his elbows rested on the top of the desk which was covered with several manilla folders and a few loose paperclips.

The obese woman was short, approximately five feet tall, with piercing brown eyes. She had a round face and her stomach protruded from her waist. When she sat down, a sliver of sweat dripped down either side of her face and she looked first toward Brass then to Sara, with a questioning look on her face.

"Can you tell me why I am here?" The woman's accent bore a trace of French to Sara's trained ears. The woman appeared to be in her late thirties, but Sara couldn't be sure. The woman could be older or younger; her skin tone was unblemished and was a deep coffee color.

Brass replied quickly, "Your employer has died under suspicious circumstances and being that you run his organization, it would behoove you to answer a few questions for us."

"Behoove, that is an interesting word."

"It's a duty or responsibility for someone to do something," Sara explained as she faced the woman.

"I know what it means, Ms. Sidle. I just found the use of it, amusing," Rebecca Boese replied and smiled.

Sara quickly asked, "What perfume are you wearing? It smells wonderful." in an attempt to confuse the woman.

"It is '_Eau de Parfum Chanel Number Five_' made by the world famous CoCo Chanel. And you are wearing nothing. 'A woman doesn't wear perfume doesn't have a future.'" Boese haughtily replied.

"CoCo Chanel. She also said, "Perfume is the unseen, unforgettable ultimate accessory of fashion that heralds your arrival and prolongs your departure." But unfortunately as a crime scene investigator, I don't wear colognes or perfumes to work because they tend to dull my senses," Sara parried.

"Touche," the woman paused. "Yes, Matthew Norman was my employer. But rest assured I had nothing to do with his death. I was in a suburb of Tampa, Florida by the name of Lakeland that day. I heard on CNN he had committed suicide."

"What were you doing in Lakeland, Florida?" Brass asked as he reached for his coffee cup, finding it empty, his expression grimaced.

"A wedding. My dear friends, Jeannetta and Davidson were married that day. Jeannetta is the manager of the 'Little Matty's Day Care' in Tampa."

"What is your job title and what specifically are your job duties?" Sara asked, unexpectedly. _Let's see how she answers this_, she thought to herself.

"My title is Corporate Liaison/Vice President of the company. The corporate office is located here in Las Vegas. Matthew Norman was the President. It is my job to coordinate events at each day care center and oversee operations. I travel extensively to each facility. There are 427 individual day centers across 36 states. If perhaps a holiday event is planned at one particular center, then I make sure that every center is participating in that event. For instance, Christmas party on December 22nd, every decoration, party ornament, cake, even napkin will be uniform in every center. It is my job to make sure there is compliance on every level."

"427 parties at once? That must be a fiasco," Brass laughed.

"Surprisingly, no it is not. I am very good at my job. I also am in charge of retaining the services of individual facility managers."

"What is your education?"

"I hold a degree in finance and law from the Cayman Islands Law School. Although that is my degree, I am not a practicing attorney." Boese seemed intent upon looking at the awards and decorations on the wall behind Brass' desk. She did not meet either the detective or Sara's eye.

"Why is that?" Sara thought to herself, _I would __almost __bet __my pay check__ she's been disbarred for something_.

"Actually, I have never sat for the bar exam in any State in the United States.

Sara breathed a sigh of relief. _Good thing I didn't really make that bet._

Boese continued, "I met Matthew Norman in 1984 just after he was awarded his judgment against the network and his parents. Matthew was a gambler. I was a law student, then working as a cocktail waitress on a casino ship in international waters off the coast of the Cayman Islands. He tipped me well and we ended up having sex that night."

"The two of you were lovers..." Brass sat straight up in his high backed chair. It appeared to Sara that the man had a look of complete disbelief when the obese woman had replied to Sara's own question.

"I was a lot thinner then," she laughed. "But lovers, no. We had sex and afterward, he told me of his intentions to own and operate a chain of day care centers. I gave him a few unsolicited pointers. The next day, he hired me as his number two person in the operation. We never had sex again."

"Why is that?" Sara asked as she watched the woman shrug her shoulders.

"It never came up."

"Literally or figuratively?" Brass asked with a sarcastic tone of voice as he slid back in his chair again.

Sara tried not to laugh as the woman blushed. It was slightly difficult to see the reddened skin tone across her dark skin, but Sara did have a bit of experience with detecting it. Her roommate at Harvard was from the deep south and her skin tone could have been described as 'deep black coffee.'

"The discussion of sex. It never came up again. I was his employee. That would have been inappropriate."

Sara felt herself blush as she thought briefly of her own boss a little earlier that day. Inappropriate was very much the word for what Grissom had done. He'd kissed her four times in a span of a couple of minutes at work in the viewing room as another employee of Matthew Norman's was being questioned.

_Gil Grissom was...Stop! Stop Thinking about him._ Sara commanded herself.

"So you were in charge of 427 locations of Little Matty's Day Care. In 2002, were you in that same capacity?" Sara's tone was completely professional as she looked the woman in the eye.

"Yes," Rebecca Boese answered succinctly.

"That same year, a child came up missing from this jurisdiction, in Las Vegas, from Little Matty's Day Care. Her name was Samantha Keyes. Were you in Las Vegas at the time of her disappearance?"

"No."

"How can you recall something like that from three years ago? I probably couldn't remember something from that long ago without..." Brass was interrupted.

"Sir, I took it upon myself to check our records at the office before I came to this interview. My mother passed away just before Samantha Keyes was reported missing and I had returned to George Town on Grand Cayman Island immediately when I was contacted with the news of her death."

"It is come to our attention that 197 children from across the United States have been reported missing in the past three years that have been associated with 'Little Matty's Day Care'. Would you have any knowledge of their disappearances or were you in the Cayman Islands all of those times, too?" Sara sprang the question suddenly on the woman.

Sara watched as the woman's eyes narrowed, then she looked to the left and then to the floor, then back at Sara.

"I resent any implications that I was involved in these tragic occurrences. But again, I have checked our records before I came here, today. 154 of those cases were parents or other family members checking a child out of a facility, without the primary parent being aware." Boese took a deep breath and continued.

"We have changed our policy and procedures on that matter and since implementing, no children have been reported missing at any of our facilities. 36 of the children, and this is across the United States, came up missing from facilities other than ours, such as their home, playgrounds, malls, and other such avenues. Three children who were listed as missing from our facilities before implementation of new policies and procedures were found in fact in the facility itself. One was hiding from her parents, one slipped out of the building in Dallas, Texas, went to a convenience store and returned without incident; one was asleep in the infant area."

"Ms. Boese, thank you for supplying these numbers to us. But there is the matter of the other four." Sara smiled ironically.

"What other four?" Boese looked confused, but Sara could tell the woman knew what she was asking.

"197 minus 154 minus 36 minus 3 leaves 4. What happened to the other four children?"

Rebecca Boese was silent. She looked neither right or left. She took a deep breath before, muttering, "I don't know. Do I need an attorney?"

"Why would you need an attorney? We're just talking here." Brass bristled.

She considered his words for a moment, then replied, "I wasn't thinking. It's terrible. Samantha Keyes, missing 2002 from Las Vegas. Jessica Boyd, missing 2003 from Topeka, Kansas. Gayla Murray, missing from Buffalo, New York 2004 and earlier this year, Susanna Patrick from Denver, Colorado." Boese sighed. "They were babies. Each of them were 3 and 4 years old when they disappeared."

"Ms. Boese, we're only interested in Samantha Keyes."

"I realize your jurisdiction only covers her. She and the other three disappeared in the same manner. They simply vanished from one of our day cares. We don't have a clue and neither does the FBI."

Sara sat up straighter, "You've been questioned by the FBI?"

"Yes, by a special agent named Monahan. Victor."

This answer earned a concentrated look between Sara and Brass. They discussed a few other odds and ends for a few minutes after that to which Rebecca Boese appeared to answer without succor on all accounts.

Finally, Sara looked down at her notebook then stated, "Ms. Boese, I would like to thank you for coming here today and sharing the information that you have." Sara rose from her chair and reached to take the woman's hand. The two shook hands and Boese left the room.

Brass stood up and approached Sara from behind. "You think she lying about anything?"

Sara answered truthfully, "I really don't know, Jim. Something is not adding up. We have on our hands the deaths of an International Justice Mission employee, the five members of the Keyes family and Matthew Norman. And nothing is making sense." Sara had her back to the only outlet to the room as she faced Brass. "But this Boese woman is only five feet tall. If she were the one who left her footprints behind in Matthew Norman's front yard, then she shrunk about nine inches."

"There is that. But she can still be responsible for the others. And don't forget the Chanel No. 5 at all the scenes and that woman," he gestured toward the doorway that Boese had just exited, "Was doused in the stuff."

"Yeah, somehow the perfume ties everything together," Sara felt her Grissom alert slide up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a brief shudder seemed to emanate from her stomach.

Gil Grissom cleared his throat from outside in the hallway. Sara turned around; she saw Grissom and Greg Sanders walking down the hallway together. Greg was saying, "So, I've solved my first case on my own. What do I win?"

"Nothing," Grissom replied deadpan.

"Yo, Sara and Brass. Mitchell just hauled off my first solve. The boss here sent me on my first case alone and I aced it. Smash and grab. The guy left prints everywhere. We questioned him and he broke down and confessed."

"That's nice, Sanders," Brass allowed as he placed his hand behind Sara's back, leading her away from the rookie CSI. "Grissom, a word?"

Grissom, who had been surreptitiously looking at Sara, cut his eyes back to Brass then Greg. "Is this about the Keyes/Jacobsen/Norman cases?"

When Brass replied in the affirmative, Grissom told Greg to head back to the CSI building and call him if there were any new cases. Sanders looked a bit sad to be left out of their discussion, but left without comment, other than a quick, "Later, Sara."

Brass and Grissom looked at Sara. Sara looked at both of them. "What?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sara, not that you haven't added an extra element of class to my office, I need to speak to Gil, alone."

She felt chastised for a moment, before Brass added, "It's another matter entirely. I was just getting rid of the DNA tech turned CSI wiz-kid. I promise, it's not about the Keyes, Belinda Jacobsen, the IJM, FBI or Matthew Norman."

"Okay, then...I'll back to CSI and review what we've learned today. Bye, Brass. Grissom." She glanced in Grissom's direction before she left but all she encountered was the back of his neck.

_I wonder what his neck tastes like? Stop! Quit thinking about him in that manner. I need to concentrate on the case. _

She overheard Brass say, "You won't believe the gossip I got for you, Gil." as she walked down the long, windowed and brightly lit hallway.

GSRGSRGSRGSR

Several hours later, Grissom walked past the layout room. He saw her and a pang of something pulled against his heartstrings.

Sara was sitting on a stool with her head in her hands. The room was full of classic rock music coming from a boombox on the floor and the tabletop was covered with evidence.

He tapped lightly on the door, but got no answer from her. Entering the room quietly, he turned the music down. "You still listening to 95.1?"

Sara didn't move or answer but she sighed and jumped a little when he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Shit, Grissom." She cursed, pulled away and hastily rubbed her face.

He noticed she was wiping tears away; she had dark bags under her eyes and she appeared overly tired. His eyes narrowed and softened. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, gaining her composure.

She turned back to the table, but she kept her eyes focused on the evidence laid out before her, not on the man with his hand still on her shoulder. His fingers were caressing and her whole body relaxed for the first time since he'd kissed her earlier. She overtly sighed and pointed to the case file. "It's all a dead end. Nothing is making sense." Then she ran the back of her hand over her eyes once again, shaking off his hand from her body.

Grissom backed off and watched her. "Pack it all up and go home."

Sara turned to him and shook her head, "Can't, just started and I'm not..."

"Tired?" Grissom looked her directly in the eye. "You're exhausted. You need to rest. I hear you have a date later. I'm sure your date would like to see you refreshed instead of dog-tired."

"Grissom," she paused. "About that..."

"No, go home, rest. We'll see you later," he insisted as he took her hand and helped her stand up from the stool. "Clean all the evidence up and go. It's okay. You can't say 'no'; your boss gave you a direct order."

Sara yawned. It had been a long time since she'd slept. "Okay, but promise me something."

"What's that?"

"When you and Hank meet me later, will you please tell me the gossip Brass shared with you, earlier?"

Grissom smiled. "Yes, dear."

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><p><strong>To be continued in the next chapter.<strong>


End file.
